


X-Men: Beginnings

by Gainee__X (geeky__chick), geeky__chick



Series: X-Men Reboot [1]
Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Post-X-Men: Days of Future Past, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geeky__chick/pseuds/Gainee__X, https://archiveofourown.org/users/geeky__chick/pseuds/geeky__chick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happened in a flash. While the old man spoke of Magneto and mutants, Wolverine's eyes bore into the dark, turbulent gaze of the woman identified as Storm. He didn't know that moment would change his life forever.</p><p>(A reboot of the original X-Men movie post Days of Future Past)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wolverine

  
_Mutation: it is the key to our evolution. It has enabled us to evolve from a single-celled organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow, and normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few hundred millennia, evolution leaps forward._

 

 

**Arusha, Tanzania**   
_Many years past_   


  
  
  
  
The dry wind kicked up across the plain, swaying the tall grass under it so the long blades danced like the sea. Clouds swirled in the darkening sky, bringing forth the sudden chill of a coming storm. Zebra and wildebeest took immediate flight, shuddering in the awe of it. The ground trembled beneath their might, even as the humans sharing their wild rushed for the cover of their village.  
  
But a lone girl stopped, turning dark eyes to the angry skies. Her smile was immediate and dazzling, welcoming the tempest as surely as the others fled. Alone at the edge of the savannah, Africa’s daughter waited with bated breath. She wanted to see it, to feel it rush over her. Power and grace, danger and life, it all rained down from the heavens.  
  
They called for her to come inside, out of the storm. She ignored them. How could they not feel it? Singing in her veins, the surge and rush of power consumed her. It was different this time, stronger and undeniable. As with every storm before it, and likely after, she would wait until that first shocking bolt sliced through the air and into the weary ground.  
  
Everyone needed this storm. The drought was slowly, achingly destroying the human invaders to this unkempt wild. She waited, waited. It would come soon, to reach out, to bless her.  
  
A roll of thunder clenched her heart, but not with fear. Awestruck, Ororo turned her gaze to the sky, even as the clouds hurled against one another, grappling for dominance. Her hands were tingling, the unusual sensation creeping like ice up the length of her arm. The call slid into a scream, even as her head pounded with the force of the thunder.  
  
Awe turned swiftly to pain and she buckled under it. On her knees, face lifted to the skies in offering, she felt her eyes sting. What was happening? Why…  
  
The sky rumbled again, shaking the very earth around her. It welcomed the girl as she shook with the almighty pain inside her. Something was happening, erupting from a part of her she hadn’t known existed until this moment. Radi na Weupe echoed in her soul, flashed brilliant light behind agonized eyes.  
  
Then, it burst forth. She released it all as that first, white-hot bolt of lightning cracked the skies. The rain pelted dry earth, but winds swirled and twisted around the kneeling child. In moments, it lifted her into the air, praising the tiny girl as their mistress.  
  
Lightning tore through her body, and oh, the burn was lovely. Her flesh welcomed it, reveled in the booming thunder and ice-cold rain. Turning, pulling the winds with her, she rode the currents until the earth was soaked with her delight. She controlled it! This was her gift, a prize from the homeland she loved with her every breath.  
  
Far below, the villagers rejoiced, crying into the winds in broken adoration.  
  
“Windrider! Windrider! Windrider!”  
  
She laughed, brought forth more power, and fell into the might of the elements.  
  
~**~  
  


  
**Westchester, New York**   
_The not too distant future_   


  
  
  
  
“They’re going to keep playing it.”  
  
“Over and over again. Jesus.”  
  
Ororo Munroe gave the massive television a disgusted sigh, taking the remote control to jack up the volume several notches. Scott Summers shooed a few of the disgruntled children away from the Rec Room, where they were delving into the day’s current mutant events.  
  
Doctor Jean Grey was on the screen, a flashing “Upset on Capitol Hill” along the bottom of the image. She was demanding Senator Kelly show her this list of known mutants as he railed against one that could walk through walls.  
  
It wasn’t something young Katherine Pryde needed to see.  
  
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was home to no less than fifty mutants. Most of that number were children, coming to the expansive mansion for training and education. Some came from loving, understanding parents, but many were runaways, terrified of their changing bodies. Or cast out by frightened mothers or fathers.  
  
Ororo and Scott were just two of the teachers attached to the school. They came as students first, developing devastating mutations under the gentle tutelage of Charles Xavier. Now, they were the teachers, mentors to a group of children the world hated and feared.  
  
Classes ended just an hour ago, leaving Scott and Ororo time to catch the evening news before they prepared dinner. Charles and Jean – Scott’s fiancée – were due back from Washington later in the evening. Ororo didn’t want to think about the conference where Jean spoke so heatedly to a United States Senator.  
  
She really did not want to dwell on the open, irritated display of telekinetic powers by her dear friend in front of the entire country.  
  
Again, the papers flew from the Senator’s hands and into Jean’s. People gasped, some screamed, and Jean only looked stoically at the assemblage. Of all the adults at Xavier’s School, only Jean was a known mutant. Her display of power hinted a loss of control. Those that knew her well could see the annoyance and anger in her eyes, even as her cool tone rang through the microphone attached to the podium.  
  
He’d baited her, Ororo thought with venom. Kelly knew of his opponent’s powers and goaded the beautiful doctor into a display that was caught on press cameras. Scott swore under his breath as the news crew presenting their rather juicy gossip rewound and replayed the image.  
  
“Another great day for mutants everywhere,” Ororo sighed. She switched the television off, shaking her head.  
  
“Kelly,” Scott said heatedly as he turned to her. “That guy’s just a peach.”  
  
“Oh, yes,” Ororo agreed. “Just lovely. I wonder if he bites the heads off small children.”  
  
Knowing her comment would humor him, she delighted in seeing Scott’s rigid posture relax a fraction. He chuckled, looking at her from behind ruby-quartz lenses. His brows were high, lips twisted into a sardonic grin. With his eyes covered, anyone who wanted to be close to their resident Cyclops had to learn to read the rest of his face.  
  
Ororo happened to be an expert.  
  
“Thanks.” He offered as they stood.  
  
“Anytime.” Tossing him her most winsome smile, Ororo headed for the kitchen.  
  
Several children waved, some darted back into their books, pretending they hadn’t been listening to every word. Others – namely Jubilation Lee and Kitty Pryde – stared outright. Ororo paused, giving them a smile that said everything would be all right. They returned the gesture, somewhat strained, and went back to their nail polishing.  
  
Before she reached the kitchen, the mansion’s main line rang. Someone picked up a receiver down the hall, a bored “Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, Artie speaking” echoing down the long corridor.  
  
“The Professor can’t be pleased.” Scott was saying as they entered the kitchen. “He warned her about Kelly.”  
  
“I know,” his companion nodded as she ducked into a cupboard. “And she behaved admirably. I would fried him right inside that Brooks Brothers suit.”  
  
Scott’s lanky form leaned against the counter as she came out of the cupboard. There was a soft, understanding smile on his face, the upturned corner speaking volumes of repressed amusement.  
  
Ororo had a mile-wide soft spot for Scott Summers. It wasn’t his good looks, which were hard for any woman with a pulse to resist. His wavy dark hair, generous mouth, and sculpted physique could get a girl’s blood pumping. But Ororo adored his good nature, the understated humor, and that amazing heart. Though he loved Jean almost to distraction, he always had five minutes to hang out with her.  
  
He’d never let her feel like the unwanted third wheel.  
  
When Charles first came for her, having learned of her powerful mutation, Ororo fought. She hadn’t wanted to come back to New York, the place of her birth. The villagers worshipped her as a goddess, who was this bald old man to demote her?  
  
She buckled, though, under his challenge to become more and when she arrived at the beautiful mansion, he placed her into Scott and Jean’s capable hands. They showed her that beauty could be found everywhere, even if it was so different from her African home.  
  
Once Scott taught her to ride one of the horses kept in the stable, she was sunk. Her life became knowledge, of her mutation, of the world. Charles thrust open the doors to a whole new life, then nudged her toward college where she learned even more. Educated and dedicated, she was the first to decide to stay on with him.  
  
To become one of the mutant fighters known to the children as the X-Men.  
  
Years later, Ororo was at home in the sprawling mountains. She had her own horse, a powerful stallion she named Radi in honor of the storms of her homeland. He was a gift, she thought fondly, from her family upon completing her teacher’s certifications.  
  
“Only a woman would demean a man because of a suit.” Scott teased as she faced him.  
  
“Only a man could say something like that. Jackass.”  
  
Scott laughed, the two of them looking up when a young student by the name of Artie popped into the room. He handed Storm a cordless receiver, glancing at Cyclops long enough to reflect the hero-worship in his eyes.  
  
“It’s the Professor,” he said quietly. “Wants to talk to you.”  
  
“Thanks, Art,” Scott replied while Ororo put the phone to her ear.  
  
The boy flushed and bolted from the room under his idol’s easy gratitude. Ororo rolled her eyes toward heaven. Boys.  
  
“Charles?” She asked into the receiver.  
  
“Ororo,” he replied tersely. “Get Scott and leave the children in Peter’s care. I need you to do something for me.”  
  
Alerted by her startled expression, Scott immediately straightened, his smile fading.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Something is happening in Canada. I will send the coordinates to the jet momentarily.”  
  
Shocked at the order, Ororo was already moving, shouting for their eldest student. Charles rarely gave such orders to his X-Men and never without the aid of Cerebro.  
  
“Charles?”  
  
“Erik was here,” was the clipped explanation. “I lifted something from his mind. Jean and I will land in seconds, but I need the jet prepared. Once I have consulted with Cerebro, I will give you further orders.”  
  
Swallowing the tension she felt creep into her spine, she pulled up short before the mutant codenamed Colossus.  
  
“Yes, Charles. We’ll get underway now.”  
  
She switched the phone off, handing it to Peter Rasputin. “Storm?”  
  
“Order pizza, get the children fed and readied for bed. You’re in charge. Don’t kill anyone. Don’t burn down the mansion. The Professor and Dr. Grey will be here soon.”  
  
To his credit, Colossus looked neither shocked nor startled. He nodded immediately. “No problem.”  
  
With that, she grabbed Scott’s arm and dragged him toward the lower levels.  
  
“It’s Erik,” Ororo whispered as the elevator doors closed. “He’s up to something.”  
  
Scott winced, exhaled. “Oh, great.”  
  
~**~  
  
  
The Blackbird soared over the clouds even as dusk came sliding through the sky. It wasn’t so much a fighter jet as a highly maneuverable airplane. Designed by Charles Xavier’s former student, an inventor by trade, the jet was an invaluable tool for the X-Men.  
  
Technologically advanced to a fault, the jet could reach amazing speeds while maintaining complete control. Both Storm and Cyclops were certified to fly it, but Scott’s landings needed help. She insisted he get practical experience, so she co-piloted while speaking with Charles through the mental link all X-Men shared.  
  
When his gentle, fatherly presence left her mind, Ororo opened her eyes. Scott had donned his visor, which he used to control the intensity and breadth of the optic beams he was codenamed for. Though the resulting blindness was a problem during his first months, Charles’ inventive friend discovered a way to control the beams.  
  
Ruby-quartz. Specially designed eyewear kept Cyclops from putting holes in important things – people or mountains – and allowed him to see through a red haze. The visor he used for battle purposes bore a dial that widened or shortened what the quartz allowed through. It was marvelous, she thought remembering the day Scott was no longer forced to keep his eyes closed.  
  
“What did he say?”  
  
“From what he gathered, Magneto is after a specific mutant traveling with a companion in northern Canada,” she reported quickly. “He couldn’t get a read on which one he was after, but something tells me it doesn’t matter.”  
  
“More strays,” Scott said affectionately. “Who’d Magneto send?”  
  
“Sabertooth or Toad,” Storm answered, turning her face to the window. “He got the impression that Mystique is otherwise engaged.”  
  
“Weather still clear?” Cyclops asked as he checked his readings.  
  
“Mmm.” She hummed the affirmative. “But if I need to, there will be a blizzard.”  
  
“Oh, good. I like it when you get testy.”  
  
The look she shot him might have withered her students, but he continued to grin.  
  
“We’re there. Hang on.”  
  
“Oh, God,” Ororo moaned, checking her seat belt.  
  
“Funny. Very funny.”  
  
Surprisingly, the Blackbird landed smoothly in the center of a snowy clearing. Cyclops’ brow hitched over the edge of his visor, as though asking for comments. Storm rewarded him with a cheeky grin as she patted her leather-covered body looking for damage.  
  
His scowl almost made her laugh.  
  
Leaving the jet via a staircase hatch, the duo took stock of the immediate area. If the calculations were correct, the objects of their search would be along momentarily. Charles wanted them to detain the couple, then convince them to return to Westchester with the X-Men. Ororo didn’t know how they would manage that, but for Charles, they had to try.  
  
“Smell that?” Cyclops asked as he took a quick survey of the surrounding wood.  
  
She did. Gasoline. Smoke.  
  
“Fire.”  
  
As one, they rushed toward the road, dodging fallen logs and slipping on the ice-slicked earth. Trees were capped in sassy white, the frigid air visible with every labored breath. Following the X-Men’s undisputed leader through the dense wood, she pulled in her mutation, readying it and her courage for whatever they might find beyond the trees.  
  
“Get down!”  
  
Cyclops turned and in one fluid movement tackled Ororo’s smaller form to the snow. She struggled to breathe under the bulk of him, instinctively burrowing into the safety zone. A loud growl preceded the crash of a body hitting the expansive tree line. Someone – something – roared with rage.  
  
“Sabertooth,” the downed mutants said in unison.  
  
Scott jumped up, leaving Ororo to collect herself. When they were both standing, he pushed more cautiously through the edge of the forest, peering almost curiously at the white-trimmed road that ran through the center. Storm kept close to her teammate, taking stock of the situation as the body took to the air again, this time landed with a metallic crash on the hood of a dented pick up.  
  
Tall, blonde, and menacing, Sabertooth bore down on the truck. Flames licked in the camper and to her horror, Ororo caught sight of a youthful, terrified face through broken glass. Only a child, she thought as their enemy closed in. She was just a girl.  
  
On the hood lay an unconscious male. Ororo could see no physical mutation that explained the fact that he was still breathing, especially after an automobile crash coupled with the animalistic brute called Sabertooth.  
  
When her friend darted into the road, Storm followed. Without him giving the order, she brought down arctic cold and madly swirling snow. The force of the sudden wind turned Sabertooth. She could almost see him test the air, no doubt picking up the hint of ozone that betrayed the storm as unnatural.  
  
The dials of Scott’s visor clicked, even as winds shoved Sabertooth back. He staggered, then leapt into the air a beat before the white-hot sizzle of optic beams sliced through the falling snow. The broken tree, which obviously caused the crash, splintered. Ororo shifted her wind, tossing the airborne Sabertooth as deeply into the forest as she could manage.  
  
“Wonder Twin powers unite,” Cyclops teased with a sly grin.  
  
Ororo curled her fingers, creating a fist that she bumped affectionately with his. The sibling-like moment passed and they once again focused on the task at hand.  
  
As one, the mutants rushed toward the damaged truck. The girl trapped inside was crying, struggling against what appeared to be a broken seat belt. Scott wrenched the door nearly off the hinge, tossing Storm a look that betrayed concern. In the camper shell, flames licked teasingly at a propane tank, dangerously hinting at what would happen in mere moments.  
  
Cyclops stepped out of the way; allowing the maternal Storm to reach out for the young girl after a careful laser released her from the belt. She did not spare her partner a glance as he yanked the limp body from the hood. Instead, Storm locked gazes with the young girl shaking in the truck seat, a hand held out in offering.  
  
Aware of the symbolism, she let the determination and warmth creep across her face. _No, little one_ , she thought as the girl continued to tremble. _We won’t hurt you._  
  
A gloved hand slapped into hers and Ororo let the relief come. She tugged her charge out of the truck, helping her over the splintered log and rushing to follow a staggering Cyclops.  
  
“Jesus,” he muttered. “Guy’s a lot heavier than he looks.”  
  
“Get down.” Ororo ordered sharply, pushing the girl to the snow and covering her body with hers.  
  
Propane and flame married, sparking an explosion that destroyed the camper, truck, and the very road on which both sat. Debris littered the air and crashed all around them, making the young girl whimper under Storm’s protective cape. Looking to the child, Ororo gave her a small, motherly smile.  
  
“I’m Ororo,” she said as metal struck asphalt. “We’re going to take you somewhere safe.”  
  
“L-Logan? Him, too?” her voice shook, but there was something like loyalty shining from soft brown eyes.  
  
“Is that his name?” Ororo, sensing it was safe, peeked up and began to stand. “Yes, he’ll come, too. You’ll both be safe.”  
  
The girl took her hand again, standing and shaking as she looked to her friend’s unconscious form. Cyclops heaved the heavy man into his arms again, his ruby-tinged gaze sweeping the immediate area for danger.  
  
“This is Scott,” Storm continued. “What’s your name, honey?”  
  
She was skittish as a wild hare, but her hand clung to Ororo’s. Something in that gesture of trust touched Storm’s heart. She squeezed the gloved fingers to reassure her.  
  
“Marie,” she said at last. “I’m Marie.”  
  
~**~  
  
There was little more Ororo could do for the young girl named Marie. When they landed in Westchester, she helped Cyclops and Jean lay the man called Logan on a stretcher. The couple wheeled him away to the med-lab, leaving Storm with a skittish young girl.  
  
“They’re going to make sure he’s all right,” Ororo explained. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”  
  
They made their way from the glossy lower levels into the antique-filled mansion. Her charge looked about with wide, innocent eyes. Other children looked out of rooms cautiously, most of them among the seniors attending the school. Younger children she hoped – for Peter’s sake – were already tucked into their beds.  
  
Sensing an opening, Storm crooked a finger to the ever-curious pair of Kitty Pryde and Jubilee. They came bouncing out of the kitchen, welcoming smiles covering their faces. Kitty’s long dark hair and sweet-featured face looked distinctly All-American beside the quiet Asian beauty of Jubilation. Both girls, however, were devoted to one another.  
  
“Kitty, Jubilee, this is Marie.” Storm introduced, her heart hurting when Marie shifted closer to the “protector” figure she’d found. “We’re all mutants, Marie. There’s no need to be afraid.”  
  
“What can you do?” asked effervescent Katherine. “I can walk through walls. It’s sorta neat, actually. Sometimes, if I concentrate, I can even walk on air. Jubi, she makes fireworks with her hands, nice and sparkly.”  
  
“Don’t make me burn you,” the calmer Jubilee cut into her friend’s rambling like a professional ringmaster. “You’ve probably seen Storm’s gift. Weather manipulation. Cool, huh?”  
  
Marie turned to look cautiously at Storm. “Is that how you tossed that big guy?” Her Southern drawl was charming when added to that innocent face.  
  
“Yes,” Ororo grinned. “Scott is also called Cyclops, he creates optic beams from his eyes. You’ll find that everyone in this house has a unique ability of some sort and an odd codename to fit it.”  
  
“Like Bobby! We call him Iceman.” Kitty bounced, clapping her hands. “And Petey. Ooh, you’ve got to meet the boys. And your shirt’s ripped. No problem. You can raid Jubi’s closet!”  
  
“Hey!” the other girl’s interruption was ignored.  
  
But when Kitty reached out to take Marie’s hand, the new girl flinched. “Don’t touch me.”  
  
Compassion flooded Shadowcat’s soft gaze. “I won’t hurt you, sweetie.”  
  
“I might hurt you,” the words tumbled from Marie’s mouth in a jumbled, frantic twang. “Whenever someone touches my skin, I suck somethin’ out of them. I can’t control it. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”  
  
As one, all three X-Women closed ranks, shushing the frightened teen with soothing tones. Ororo immediately, deliberately threw her leather-covered arm over her shoulders, drawing her close. Kitty and Jubilee would not let Marie resist, and each took one hand in theirs.  
  
“Its ok.” Kitty said with a small smile. “I’ve got some gloves you can have.”  
  
“And it’s New York, we’ve got plenty of long-sleeved clothes.” Jubilee added. “Why don’t we let Storm get out of her uniform? You come on up with Kit-Kat and me. You can have some pizza, take a shower.”  
  
“That sounds like a good idea,” Ororo agreed. “I’ll leave you girls in charge. Make sure our newest recruit gets settled in while I check in with the Professor.”  
  
“We’ll explain everything,” Jubilee promised, obviously seeing the question and alarm on Marie’s face. “So, you got a codename, Marie?”  
  
Astonished and slightly awed, the girl whispered. “Rogue.”  
  
“Damn, why didn’t I think of that one?” Kitty sighed, drawing Rogue between herself and Jubilee, deftly taking her from Storm’s hands. “They call me Shadowcat.”  
  
“Cute.” Marie glanced back at Ororo. The elder mutant waved with one hand, smiling encouragement.  
  
If anyone could soothe the terrified girl, it was the unbeatable team of Jubilee and Shadowcat.  
  
Deciding their newest member was in good hands, Ororo headed upstairs to her bedroom, peeling her wet and soggy uniform off. After pulling on pajamas, she padded down the hallway to the staircase that led to the master suite. Charles was waiting, she could feel the gentle pull of his mental probing.  
  
So, she didn’t bother to knock when she reached his rooms. Stepping inside, Ororo gifted her mentor with a smile.  
  
“She’s settling in with Kitty and Jubilee.”  
  
“An excellent choice, my dear.” Charles still wore his crisp linen suit, beckoning her closer to sit in his private sitting room. “And the man?”  
  
“Jean has him,” Storm answered. She took the offered seat on a plush settee of deep, forest green. Slipping long legs under her backside, the woman settled comfortably.  
  
“We will learn more in the morning, I believe,” Charles nodded, giving her that rare, paternal smile. “You were just in time.”  
  
“Barely. Had you gotten those coordinates to us any later, we might have been to late to save them.” Storm paused, gauging her friend’s mood with a cursory glance at his handsome features. “Charles, what happened with Erik?”  
  
Benevolent blue eyes closed, an expression of acute pain lingering on his lined face. Ororo gave in to impulse, remembering the way Rogue shied from her. She took her friend’s bare hand in hers, squeezing his fingers with gentle support.  
  
“When he left us,” Charles began haltingly. “I knew this day would come.”  
  
“We all did,” she whispered, trying to ignore the pang of loss.  
  
“He’s committed now. To what end, I’m not sure.” The Professor sighed, opening those warm azure eyes again. “But we must be prepared to meet him.”  
  
“We are prepared,” Storm replied, squeezing his hand again. “You’ve made sure of that.”  
  
“Perhaps.” His tone was so melancholy, Ororo abandoned her seat to kneel before him. Embracing him because they were alone and it was welcomed, she wrapped Charles tightly in her arms as a daughter might.  
  
“We are prepared, Charles. Don’t doubt us now.”  
  
“No.” He kissed her hair, making her smile. “I would never doubt any of you.”


	2. Xavier's School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of life at Xavier's School as Rogue and Wolverine settle in.

  
Ororo and Scott held several rituals together, developed over the course of nearly twenty years.  
  
They came to the Professor at similar ages, two young adults with enormous power and little control. It wasn’t a leap that they took to one another so easily. Jean often referred to them as twins, though they would ever be a trio.  
  
One such ritual happened to include coffee, muffins, and quiet talk. Nearly every morning, just after dawn, would find two adult mutants indulging in a few minutes alone. Jean might stop by, but her penchant for hitting the alarm for “five more minutes” usually left her two companions alone.  
  
This morning, however, Jean was up at the crack of dawn, rushing down to check the condition of their newest “stray”. The words fascinating, impossible, and “Dear God” left the redhead’s mouth every thirty seconds since the discovery of this mysterious Logan. Jean had medical and scientific tests to run, wanting to know more about the man who withstood Sabertooth and came through without a scratch.  
  
Regarding his coffee-buddy over the rim of his favorite Batman mug, Scott tilted his head at her curiously. Ororo was lost in thought, staring into the black coffee as though it held the key to the very meaning of life. His wise friend glowed in the early morning light, her cocoa colored skin covered in a soft white top and matching wrap.  
  
There were times their platonic relationship baffled Cyclops. Oh, he would admit to anyone that Ororo was devastatingly beautiful. She kept her emotions locked up, a disadvantage to her mutation, so her face was always serene, giving the illusion of otherworldly knowledge. Divine, he remembered thinking upon first seeing her, the very definition of divinity.  
  
“What are you staring at?”  
  
Her sharp comment brought Scott from daydreams with a jolt. Coffee sloshed over the rim of his mug, burning his hand so that he yelped and swore. Ororo’s eyes were laughing at him, though her mouth remained in a thin, disapproving line.  
  
After sticking the injured thumb into his mouth, Scott smirked. Hell, Ororo was gorgeous and sometimes it seemed a damn shame that he loved and adored his fiancée so much.  
  
“Wondering if I can convince you to run off to Curacao with me. I’ll change my name to Raoul and we’ll sell baskets to the tourists.”  
  
“Just let me finish my coffee, Raoul, and then I’ll go pack.” She tossed the line off airily while breaking off a hunk of muffin.  
  
“Course, we’ll have to live in perpetual fear of Jean, but I think we can handle it.”  
  
“Shut up, Scott.” Ororo laughed, brightening the room with it. “You’re disturbed.”  
  
“You know me too well.”  
  
As she continued to chuckle, Scott forced his mind to center. He knew Storm had spoken to Kitty and Jubilee, learning what they could of the child the X-Men rescued.  
  
“Ok,” he said, straightening his spine. “Lets behave ourselves. What do we know about Marie?”  
  
Ororo frowned, holding up a single finger as a signal to wait while she swallowed a mouthful of muffin. “Fourteen, runaway from Georgia. Apparently, her mutation manifested during her first kiss and the boy ended up in the hospital.”  
  
“Now there’s a lesson in safe sex we never considered,” Scott muttered with a smile.  
  
His companion continued as though she’d not heard him. “She always wanted to take a road trip to Anchorage and decided after her parents tried to beat the mutant out of her that it was high time she got started. Walked into a bar in Laughlin City, met the man named Logan as he decided to get into a bar fight.”  
  
“Ok, back up.” Scott’s tone shifted to ice and Ororo’s dark eyes met his. “Beat the mutant out of her?”  
  
Ororo nodded slowly. “Kitty spotted a bruise when she was changing and the story popped out. I told Charles we should file for custody.”  
  
“Can we pay these lovely human beings a visit and beat the asshole out of them?”  
  
Her lips twitched at the corners, a sign that she was fighting a smile. “Maybe later, if you’re a good boy.”  
  
“Moving on, then.” He gestured for Ororo to go on.  
  
“According to Marie, she saw Logan cage fighting. He was still standing after a “big ol’ brute” beat on him. The man wasn’t happy that Logan wasn’t so much as bleeding and pulled a knife. Marie shouted for him to look out. She might have saved his life.”  
  
Scott turned this over in his mind. “He must have a healing mutation.”  
  
“That’s not the best part,” Ororo’s eyebrow arched and the lilt of her voice screamed amusement. “When the knife-wielding anti-mutant bastard got too close, Logan stood and shoved him into a wall. Six steel blades erupted from his hands. Scared the living daylights out of everyone in the area.”  
  
Exhaling, Scott whistled lowly. “Interesting. How’d the kid end up in his truck?”  
  
At this, Ororo chuckled. “Hid in the back. She wanted a ride and decided Logan was a good enough protector. He discovered her, tried to leave her on the road. Seconds later, he had a change of heart. Five minutes later, Sabertooth attacked.”  
  
“Lovely,” Scott sighed, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “So we’ve got a two mutants with no prior connection and Magneto. I don’t get it.”  
  
“Neither do I,” Ororo agreed, setting her coffee down. “It seems odd…”  
  
 _Ororo, Scott?_  
  
Directing thoughts inward, Scott replied.  _Yes, Professor?  
  
Our new friend has just awoken. I fear he is somewhat confused.  
  
Is Jean all right? Did he hurt her?_  Ororo’s question made Scott stand, his hands clenching into fists.  
  
 _No. Logan did not intend to harm her. He is merely disoriented. Please clear the hallways, and come to my office in a few moments. I am going to draw him to me.  
  
Of course, Charles. _ Storm answered him, even as Scott moved for the door.  
  
Together, silently, Ororo and Scott worked to clear a path from the elevator leading downstairs to the classrooms. Charles’ office was in the main corridor, so the twosome ducked into an alcove. Not twenty seconds after, a tall, burly man wearing an X-Men sweatshirt came rushing around the corner.  
  
“Stay.” Ororo commanded when Scott unconsciously moved to intercept. “Don’t move.”  
  
Logan darted behind a pillar when a group of children marched down the stairs with the grace of a herd of buffalo. Ororo’s strong hand kept Scott from moving again. Watching through the ruby-haze, Scott realized that Logan was hiding from them.  
  
Afraid. Nervous. He felt his heart soften slightly. How odd must it be? To wake in a strange place, only knowing that your last memory was battle? Did he worry for the girl? Was he, in fact, searching for her? Did this gruff man have that sort of loyalty?  
  
When Logan ducked into Charles’ office, Scott exhaled. Logan was going to be trouble.  
  
“All right,” Storm said in her most regal tone. “We’ll wait a moment and then barge in. I’m absolutely dying of curiosity here.”  
  
Amused against his will, Scott hitched a brow over his glasses. “Really?”  
  
“Shut up, Scott.”  
  
~**~  
  
Wherever the hell he was, he intended to get the hell out as soon as humanly possible.  
  
A bald old man in a wheelchair was moving closer, even as the children he’d just been teaching exited the room. The scent of this office was clean, almost innocent. It smelled of children, of life, of old leather books and wood polish.  
  
“I’m Charles Xavier. Would you like some breakfast?” He came around the desk. Logan took a step back, wanting to crouch into defense.  
  
Off his guard, he glanced around the room again. A blackboard was set up, equations and words written upon it with a clear, concise hand. Books lined two walls, the chairs around an antique desk haphazard with the quit exit of several teenagers.  
  
It was, Logan thought, a room fit for a man of power, of kindness. Something about that unsettled him.  
  
Eyes of warm blue were regarding him kindly. The wheelchair stopped, the man in it folding his hands into his lap. His posture was rigid, as though he’d spent his life in high society. The suit Logan pegged as expensive, French cut, and perfectly pressed.  
  
“Where am I?”  
  
“Westchester, New York. You were attacked. My people brought you here for medical attention.”  
  
People? What damn people? “I don’t need medical attention.”  
  
Though his tone was decidedly rude, Xavier smirked. “Yes, of course.”  
  
Marie’s signature scent, one of flowers and sun, lingered here. Hackles rising, Logan glanced about once more, as though he might find her cowering in a corner. He may have just met the kid, but by allowing her into his truck, he’d made a silent promise to look after her.  
  
“Where’s the girl?”  
  
Xavier smiled. “Rogue? She’s here. She’s fine.”  
  
“Really?” He wouldn’t believe that until he saw her with his own eyes. Xavier’s steady, unrelenting gaze dared Logan to contradict him at the same time it spoke volumes of truth.  
  
The wide, oak door popped open, making Logan step back. His hands clenched into fists, ready to simply beat on whatever came into the room. Nerves frayed, he sniffed without thinking, catching a hint of sandalwood covering a natural scent of freshly fallen rain.  
  
She stepped through the door with limitless grace, a small, easy smile on full lips. Her flesh defined the word soft, shining in brilliant tones of chocolate and caramel. Hair the very color of Canadian snow fell to her waist in twisting curls, spilling onto a top of similar hue.  
  
Looking her up and down with an intensity of predator to prey, Logan took in the white silk wrap, the tight top beneath that showed off coffee colored breasts. Sleek black trousers fitted to long, slim legs, the length extended due to her heeled boots. She had to work for that slender body, though her frame said she would never be a large woman.  
  
When his gaze traveled back up, he found those lips widening with a knowing smile. But it was the eyes that caught his attention and held it. Dark irises that hinted at feminine secrets and ethereal knowledge stared without fear or shame. She’d dusted the lids with smoky powder, succeeding in accentuating the long, cat-like shape of them. Her features were soft, making Logan peg her as African by blood.  
  
The only thing he could think after his long, studying look was: God  _damn._  
  
Behind her, a man somewhat taller than Logan was staring at him from behind crimson lenses. Boy scout, Logan thought with a sardonic smirk. His scent was of burning ozone and Stetson cologne. Chiseled features and tousled brown hair made him seem to define good looks, but Logan caught the tension in his shoulders.  
  
They weren’t going to get along.  
  
“Ah, Logan,” Xavier was speaking, affection in his tone. “I’d like you to meet Ororo Munroe, also called Storm.”  
  
The goddess spoke first, with warmth, with welcome. “Hello.”  
  
“This is Scott Summers, also called Cyclops.”  
  
He said nothing, but extended a polite hand. Logan stared at the limb, then into the ruby-gaze, ignoring the gesture. With no other option, the other man dropped his hand, giving Logan a look that said, clearly, “Ok, buddy, I can play ‘Who’s the bigger asshole’ too.”  
  
The Professor spoke again, this time with a hint of impatience. “They saved your life.”  
  
 _And I couldn’t be awake for that?_  Logan thought, looking back to the woman identified as Storm.  
  
Warmth left her eyes and she met his questioning look with anger. Sizing her up quickly, he put two and two together. Coming up with four, he decided the Boy Scout was bouncing on the goddess. How stupid was that? Like this young buck deserved a woman like that.  
  
Another presence came around the corner. Logan glanced at the redheaded woman he’d first seen in the below levels. She smelled of vanilla, a hint of fresh cut grass. Her pale skin was marred at the throat by a bruise from his hands and Logan felt a surge of guilt over that. Hindsight was, after all, twenty-twenty. She’d likely been trying to help him.  
  
Green eyes sparkled with humor, her mouth a gentle smile as she strode past him and to the Professor. Logan took a moment to glance at her backside, appreciating the view with blatant maleness.  
  
“I believe you’ve already met Doctor Jean Grey.”  
  
Without acknowledging the Professor or the woman he called Jean, Logan’s eyes found their way back to Storm. Amusement swirled there now, mingled with curiosity.  
  
“You’re in my school for the gifted, for mutants. Here you’ll be safe from Magneto.” Xavier spoke again; Logan did not take his eyes from Storm.  
  
“What’s a Magneto?”  
  
“A very powerful mutant, one that believes a war is brewing between mutants and the rest of humanity.” Surrounded by what Logan figured were his “children”, Charles was more relaxed, his tone gentler. “I’ve been following his activities for some time. The man who attacked you is called Sabertooth.”  
  
At this, Logan couldn’t help the dark chuckle that left his lips nor the complete amusement at the situation in general. What did these people think they were? Superheroes?  
  
“Sabertooth,” he repeated with a grin, looking to the Professor. Turning back to the white-haired woman, he clucked his tongue, pointing at her. “Storm.”  
  
He winked. She scowled.  
  
Unable to help himself, Logan faced Xavier. “What do they call you? Wheels?”  
  
The leader of this ragtag group frowned, straightening in his chair.  
  
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He turned to leave, not surprised to find that Cyclops moved to bar the open door. “Cyclops, right?”  
  
In one swift move, he hauled the boy up by the front of his smart little turtleneck. That ruby-tinged gaze sharpened. This close, Logan could see two angry eyes behind the jeweled lenses. The woman beside him shifted, as though to protect. That was irritating.  
  
“Wanna get out of my way?” He growled in the boy’s face.  
  
Cyclops peered past him to Xavier, as though asking for orders. Logan hoped the kid would try to best him, the rage always close to the surface needed an outlet. It could be fun to toss this ramrod straight kid around the room for a while.  
  
“It’s been almost fifteen years, hasn’t it?” Xavier’s tone was mild, but penetrating. “Moving from place to place, living from day to day. Never knowing who or what you are.”  
  
Releasing Cyclops, he turned to look at the demure man sitting so proudly in his wheelchair. Beside him, Storm took a step closer to Cyclops. For some reason, that irritated him further as Xavier continued.  
  
“Shut up.” Logan told him before turning. “You don’t know anything.”  
  
Then, the voice that brought him from the metal-laced lower levels echoed in his mind again. Whispering, drawing feelings of being trapped. He looked around, searching for the cause.  
  
 _You’re not the only one with gifts._  
  
Logan realized, from the voice, from the slight smirk on Xavier’s face, that the location of that whispering, entreating tone originated in the old man’s mind. Amused now, he glanced at the other mutants before meeting Xavier’s gaze. Wildly entertained all of the sudden, he felt the corner of his mouth turn up in a half-grin.  
  
“What is this place?”  
  
~**~  
  
Ororo walked with Jean as they left the lower levels. Classes were over for the day and she wanted to talk with her friend about this Wolverine.  
  
Charles, she heard through the grapevine, struck some kind of deal with Logan. He would remain on the grounds for two days, giving Charles time to uncover Magneto’s plans. In exchange, he would use his resources to help Logan piece together his past, the life his previous captors had so ruthlessly stolen.  
  
All of this curiosity was just too tempting to resist. What kind of man was this? How did he play into Erik’s plans?  
  
Standing close enough to resemble the teenagers above, the duo eased toward the elevator together, hands brushing as they moved. Jean, Ororo always thought, was classically beautiful. All fine lines and pale skin. Years before, jealousy would crop up, making her irritable and unsure. Ororo had the uncommon features that bred true in her mother’s African line. The white hair and changing eyes, for starters.  
  
As a teen, she wanted to blend in. She’d lost count of how many times she dyed or cut her hair, trying to just be one of the others. Now as an adult, she adored the differences. Her hair was long now, contrasting against the darkness of her skin. It made people look and because she happened to be female, Ororo liked to be looked at.  
  
Logan’s intense study of her, however, she found unnerving. The predatory gaze rarely wavered, even with Jean in all her glory entered the room. Oh, he’d looked, but then those dark, unreadable eyes came right back to Storm. It made her skin itchy, her palms sweat. She didn’t think she liked this brash Wolverine, especially after he manhandled the man she considered her brother.  
  
“He apologized,” Jean said as the elevator doors closed. “For hurting me.”  
  
“He should apologize to Scott as well.” Ororo gave into sibling tendencies and peeked at the angry blue-black bruise on her throat. “I should have fried him.”  
  
“It’s not his fault,” her friend replied soothingly. “I don’t blame him for being frightened. For all he knew, I was trying to kill him.”  
  
“Would it have killed to ask?”  
  
“I don’t think he thinks like that.”  
  
Ororo waited a beat, trying to resist the pull of her ever-growing curiosity. When Jean refused to go on without prompting, she sighed and faced her. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Well,” the redhead began immediately. “Given his heightened senses and that odd codename, I’m starting to think his mutation goes further than super-healing. He relies on instinct, like an animal might.”  
  
Ororo chewed on her bottom lip, remembering the defensive stance, those dark glances.  
  
“Interesting theory,” Ororo conceded the point. “That doesn’t give him the right to behave like he did. I could have slapped him for yanking at Scott that way.”  
  
“Still,” Jean lowered her tone as they left the elevator. “What was done to him…I can’t even imagine.”  
  
“Pity he has, I’m not disputing that.” Storm shooed Artie out of the way with a single look.  
  
Jean hummed under her breath, the weight of an unrelenting stare making Ororo’s hair stand on end. She knew her friend as well as she knew Scott, so mentally, Storm braced herself.  
  
“He’s hot.”  
  
“JEAN!” Shocked, Ororo covered her mouth with one hand, glancing about to ensure no one heard the comment. “I’m telling Scott.” Her words were muffled by the hand.  
  
“Oh, come on!” Jean laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls. “He’s gorgeous in that ‘I’m a bad boy, punish me’ way.”  
  
Ororo refused to reply, no matter what an interesting mental picture that made. Logan’s deep eyes came back to her, that sly wink tripping her heart. Damn it. With his rugged good looks and untamed ferocity, he did have a certain appeal.  
  
“You’re terrible,” she hissed to Jean.  
  
“I just noticed, is all.” She slid a sidelong glance to her friend. “Did you notice the hotness factor? Cause I thought I noticed you noticing.”  
  
Undone, Ororo stopped, whirling on her friend. Heat flashed into her cheeks, an unbidden fantasy of Logan shoving her against a wall flitting through her mind. Ororo knew herself, she had a penchant for going after the wild, the untamable. Jean, to her misfortune, knew that as well.  
  
Tall, muscled, and mean, Logan definitely fit the bill. If Storm had a type, he was it.  
  
“I noticed.” She replied shortly. “Now, shush.”  
  
Jean giggled, bouncing a little where she stood. Ororo was reminded of the girl she’d been, so sweet and bubbly not unlike their little Shadowcat. Warmed by the display of girlishness, Ororo shook her head in dismay.  
  
They continued walking, Jean humming in triumph under her breath. The Wolverine might be sexy, Storm thought as they rounded a corner, but she didn’t have to like him. If she knew Scott, the man was already telling Charles that their new addition couldn’t be trusted. Dislike radiated from her friend in waves, even when Wolverine wasn’t in the room.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Speak of the Devil and in he walks.  
  
Still wearing the Xavier sweatshirt he’d stolen from the lower levels, Wolverine entered from a classroom he’d obviously been exploring. Jean made a small sound that, something akin to an “eep” as he came toward the gossiping women.  
  
Ororo felt his eyes on her before she looked at him fully. Meeting that interested gaze without remorse or shame, she arched a brow. His bearded face swept up into the wolfish peaks of his hair and she wondered if that was a part of his mutation or deliberate.  
  
That impossibly sexy mouth curved into a smirk.  
  
“Wheels said one of you could find me a room.” Logan explained, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “Any volunteers?”  
  
Jean, the traitor, nudged Ororo with an elbow. “Storm, do you mind? I’ve got to check on the kids.”  
  
 _Bitch._ Ororo sent the thought viciously.  
  
 _No thanks required, pumpkin_. Jean’s mental voice shot back.  
  
“Storm?” Wolverine questioned, his smirk widening. “I can handle that.”  
  
“In your dreams.” The words left her lips without consulting her brain. Ororo ignored the comment, though she distinctly noticed his gaze heat up.  
  
When her blood started to boil, she deflected. “There’s a room on the third floor. Follow me.”  
  
“Thanks,” he answered, stopping to wave at Jean.  
  
Aware that her friend was watching, Ororo turned on her heel and headed for the stairs briskly. Later, when she and the other two met for their nightly staff meeting, she would thump Jean on the head for good measure.  
  
He was staring. She could feel the weight of it on her back as she ascended the staircase. Glancing at him over her shoulder, Ororo did her best to glare. He shrugged one shoulder, continuing a lazy perusal of her backside. Irritated – more that his staring pleased her – Ororo marched up the stairs at an even brisker pace.  
  
They did not speak until she opened the heavy door to an empty bedroom on the teacher’s level. She walked inside, clicking on a nearby lamp and looking around. Logan moved inside more slowly, glancing at everything with those predatory eyes.  
  
“You should be fine in here,” Ororo said as she walked to the window.  
  
“Where’s your room?” He asked, obviously amused.  
  
“Down the hall,” she took a breath, trying to settle herself before turning.  
  
“With Scott?”  
  
That simple sentence hung on the air. Scott? Ororo turned very slowly, her brow arching as amusement forcing her to turn a smile into a small scowl. There was the slight edge to his tone, one that she wasn’t sure made her more irritated or proud.  
  
He had his back to her, opening a closet to peer inside curiously.  
  
“I fail to see how that’s any of your concern,” she shot at him icily. “But if you must know, I sleep alone.”  
  
Logan’s head came out from the closet slowly, his own eyebrow meeting that wild hairline. Ororo deliberately went to the dresser, moving on from the comment even as she made plans to laugh into hilarity over it with Cyclops.  
  
He waited a beat. “If you sleep alone, it’s gotta be by choice.”  
  
“There are some clothes in here,” she told him, trying to hold back laughter as she redirected his attention. “They should fit.”  
  
He was standing in the center of the room now, his dark stare intense. She faced him, determined to not let that unrelenting gaze wiggle under her skin any more than it already had. Gazes locked, Ororo merely stared back, as though waiting for him to say something.  
  
“So, what’s your gift?” Logan’s question seemed on the up and up, so she relaxed slightly.  
  
“Weather manipulation.” Ororo answered easily.  
  
“You control the weather?” His brow went up higher.  
  
“Something like that,” she smirked. Letting her eyes sting, Ororo tapped into the mutation she’d been born with.  
  
The darkening sky turned suddenly black, slashes of white lightning crashing through the inky black. Logan flinched when thunder rattled the windows, his gaze flicking to the view outside, then back to her glowing eyes.  
  
“Storm.” His grunt ended her display of power.  
  
“Yes.” Reigning it in, Ororo returned the skies to their previous tranquility. “Do you need anything else?”  
  
When Logan did not speak, she moved as though to leave the room. He stepped in front of her, reminiscent of Scott just that morning. Annoyed, Ororo tilted her head back, their close proximity setting off warning bells in her mind. He stared down at her, his dark eyes flickering over every feature until returning to hers.  
  
“Storm?”  
  
Turning at the call of her name, Storm smiled at Scott’s familiar form in the doorway. The grim set to his mouth and the white-knuckled hand on doorknob practically screamed anger. To abate it, Ororo stepped easily around Logan, shaking her head from side to side a fraction. No, the Wolverine hadn’t hurt her.  
  
Still, Scott remained rigid. Ororo decided discretion was the better part of valor and deserted the field.  
  
“Good night, Logan.”  
  
“’Night.”  
  
~**~  
  
When Ororo left the room, Logan watched her with unabashed interest. Cyclops stepped a little further into the bedroom, glaring at him from behind ruby-covered eyes.  
  
It didn’t take a genius to sense the anger and possessiveness in the other man. He might as well wear a sign that proclaimed in neon: Back the fuck off. Feeling slightly frisky with how Storm got his blood pumping, he tested the bold Cyclops.  
  
“So,” Logan offered quickly. “This the part where you tell me to stay away from your girl?”  
  
Surprise flitted over his face, but Scott’s voice was sharp as a blade. “One thing about this place, our girls can take care of themselves.”  
  
“Then, I guess you don’t have anything to worry about.” Logan cocked his head, hands coming up to rub absently on the space between his knuckles.  
  
Scott smirked widely, tilting his own head until they studied one another like wolves in the wild. Logan didn’t flinch, but let him stare. Even if Storm had something with this little whelp, it wouldn’t matter to him. Kid wouldn’t hold on to a woman like Storm. No way in hell.  
  
“Must burn you up that a boy like me saved your life, huh?” Scott stepped back, taking the door with him until it was only open wide enough for a body. “Better be careful, I might not be there next time.”  
  
Because it did burn him up that the Boy Scout came riding to the rescue, Logan snarled. Cyclops moved as though to close the door behind him, but paused. Gazes locked again, this time with amusement covering the anger.  
  
“Oh, and Logan? Stay away from my girl.”  
  
With that, he closed the door, leaving Logan to ponder over everything on his own.  
  
A violent shove pushed thoughts of the white-haired goddess out of his mind. He’d talked with Rogue, seen her cozy up to a couple of girls her own age. She looked better today. No fear, just the realization that there were others like herself. For her, this place might be what she was looking for.  
  
Logan found himself still bound and determined to get the hell out. As soon as he knew what Magneto wanted with him, he was gone. Maybe Wheels could help him put together things he’d lost, maybe not. Either way, in forty-eight hours, Wolverine intended to get the hell out of Dodge.  
  
Switching the light off, Logan stripped to his skivvies and slid into bed. The sheets were clean, the mattress soft. He settled down, weary body still sore from the crash, from Sabertooth’s attack. Sleep would come to claim him quickly.  
  
But as he tumbled into it, he recalled the Professor speaking. While the old man spoke of Magneto and mutants, his eyes were locked onto Storm’s dark, turbulent gaze. A smile crossed his mouth as he drifted into the realm of dreams.


	3. Perilous Riptide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogue and Wolverine have a painful encounter, but Storm may be the real danger.

As expected, Jean and Scott laughed into near hysterics over Wolverine’s misconception. They lounged in the couple’s bedroom for two hours after lights out, rehashing the day’s events and sharing theories. Nothing really earth shattering ever came out of their little conferences, but the mismatched trio enjoyed them.  
  
Scott sat against the headboard of the bed, Jean’s fiery mane cradled in his lap. He idly stroked her hair from forehead back, making the already-exhausted Jean blink heavy eyelids. Ororo wondered if her friend would begin purring like a contented cat.  
  
Ororo herself sprawled over the foot of their creamy duvet, wrapped in her cotton boxer shorts, white tank and long robe. Her feet, as usual, were bare as Scott and Jean’s. Comfortable sharing time in their jammies – which began just after her arrival at the mansion – the group spoke in quiet tones, enjoying the lull when no one demanded their attention.  
  
Of course, Storm wasn’t always admitted into their room in the quiet hours. Though they were all exceptionally close, Scott and Jean were indeed a couple. Every couple required “alone” time. If Jean subtly pushed at her mind to stay in her own room, Ororo listened. She did not need to see the man she cherished as a brother naked. Again.  
  
“I can’t believe Scott kept it up,” Jean murmured quietly. “Usually he can’t lie worth a damn.”  
  
“Hey,” he protested, nudging his fiancée playfully. “It was too good. I think he growled at me.”  
  
Unable to help herself, Ororo grinned. “Me too. One of the most classic moments ever had inside this school.”  
  
Jean giggled. “I still think he’s hot.”  
  
Scott scowled, reaching with a free hand to tickle her ribcage. Jean – ticklish to ridiculous proportions – squirmed, rocking the mattress as they played. Ororo flipped onto her back, raising her feet with the white tie of her robe dragging over the soles. Her hands bunched the material, her pensive expression boring into the ceiling while the rhythmic motion of the tie over her feet soothed.  
  
“Uh-oh,” Jean commented as the bed stopped shuddering. “Storm’s got that look on her face.”  
  
A male groan preceded Scott collecting a still-sleepy Jean into his lap, holding her tightly and looking around as though in search of danger. Ororo turned her head against the duvet, giving her companions a mocking, yet aloof glare.  
  
“I do not have a “look” on my face,” she retorted icily.  
  
“Yes, yes you do,” Scott countered with a grin beneath ruby-quarts. “You’ve got that look that usually means Jean or I will be bailing you out of jail.”  
  
Affronted, she balled up her robe-tie and tossed it at him, still holding her legs in the air. Both of her companions laughed, even as Scott grabbed the tie and effectively wrapped it around his forehead as though in a Jackie Chan movie.  
  
“That only happened once,” Ororo defended. “And it was not my fault.”  
  
“Oh, sure,” Jean teased. “Funny how that guy ran his balls into your knee like that.”  
  
Scott snorted.  
  
She recalled the incident with far more amusement than she’d had at the time. A night of itchy brooding sent her to a local Westchester bar – Harry’s – the three of them frequented since coming of age. It wasn’t often that Ororo spent a night out at Harry’s, even more rare that she lay awake in the quiet hours, itchy and aware.   
  
That particular visit found her in a pair of too-tight jeans and a backless halter, half-bent over a billiard table until two in the morning. When one of the drunken regulars decided she needed a hand – his in particular – she retaliated on instinct. Luckily, he dropped the assault charges as soon as he sobered up.  
  
Part of her conceded that Scott was right. She did feel similarly. Her skin ached and itched, heart thudding an uncommon beat that reminded her of the wild ecstasy of drums in her native Africa. Perhaps her negligent social life took the blame most of the time, but Ororo found herself blaming the sleeping man down the hall for her restlessness.  
  
“Go out,” Jean prompted quietly, snuggling into her fiancé’s chest. “Its early yet.”  
  
“No,” Ororo immediately shook her head. Though a night of pool-sharking and a cold beer sounded wonderful, the cards didn’t favor her tonight. “Not with Magneto planning something. I am needed here.”  
  
Scott and Jean shared a heavy, speculative look. The woman she considered in every way a sister turned to smirk.  
  
“Why don’t you go knock on Logan’s door? Take him a beer?”  
  
Ororo reached over, captured a foot, and tickled mercilessly. Scott, her willing partner in mischief, held the woman he loved in place while Storm exacted revenge. She would miss this, Ororo thought somewhat mournfully as Jean squealed for mercy. Someday, they would grow too old for such games. After marrying, Scott and Jean might value privacy a little more as they planned for a family. Ororo feared she might fall to the wayside, filling her days with demands of schoolchildren, her nights with restive dreams.   
  
“SOMEBODY HELP!”  
  
On a shocked gasp, all three startled, sobering immediately. Had that terrified scream come from down the hall? They waited, neither even breathing as someone stumbled a few doors down. Ororo turned to Scott, whom was scrambling out of bed with Jean at his side. Doors opened, curious teens peeked into the hall or came from bedrooms unabashedly.   
  
Ororo followed them quickly, shooing gathering children away as they converged on Logan’s closed bedroom door. Scott and Jean swung it open, rushing inside.  
  
“It was the new guy,” Kitty offered, her eyes wide with alarm. “Rogue heard him groaning in his sleep, came to check on him.”  
  
Gently nudging the girl aside, Ororo peered into the room, trying to shield the children. Her heart lurched, landed at her feet. Poor young Rogue had one hand on Logan’s surprised, agonized face. They seemed caught in the moment, as though someone with a massive remote control left them on pause.  
  
Scott hit the light switch, breaking the spell. Rogue released her friend and Logan dropped from his bed like a stone. He twitched and seized violently, caught in the bedcovers. Jean, in full doctor mode, strode inside, taking his face to prevent the Wolverine from biting his own tongue off.  
  
“Scott, grab a pillow.”  
  
Cyclops struggled to follow her commands, alarm written clearly all over his features. Ororo, for her part, stared at their new addition in mute shock. So, that’s what the girl meant by hurting other people. Had such an innocent touch really caused the gasping she heard from the floor?  
  
“It was an accident,” Rogue explained brokenly, tears coursing down her cheeks. She stepped forward and to her eternal shame, Ororo stepped back.   
  
Immediately regretting it, she turned as Rogue rushed from the room. The children blocking the door scattered, leaving her enough space to pass unhindered. Storm made a command decision, her heart aching for the girl she could clearly hear sobbing as she fled down the stairs.  
  
“Jean?” She asked, already moving for the door.   
  
“He should be fine. I’ve woken the Professor,” her friend answered easily. “Just in case, Scott get me a med-kit. I don’t like the fact that he has all that metal inside him and a weakened healing factor.”  
  
“You got it,” Scott stood, glancing at Storm. “Ororo?”  
  
“I’m going to check on Rogue.” She answered, gathering the students outside with her arms outstretched. “We need to know what happened.”  
  
“Ok,” he nodded, giving her a brief smile. “He’ll be fine.”  
  
She didn’t want to think about Scott’s reasons for giving her that quick and somehow reassuring response.  
  
After seeing that every student was back in his or her bedroom – even if she knew they were in no way going to sleep with all the excitement – Ororo marched down the stairs. She heard Kitty and Jubilee trying to soothe an inconsolable Rogue through the door, the girl’s quiet crying tearing at Storm’s heart.  
  
She knocked twice, then opened the door easily. Kitty and Jubilee looked up, giving her a glance that clearly said, “She’s not talking”. Storm ushered the girls to their beds, coming to sit on the edge of Rogue’s. Still hating herself for shying away, Ororo made a point to let their pajama-covered thighs brush as she sat, one arm going around the weeping girl’s shoulder.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she cried, looking at her hands as though they betrayed her. “I just…I didn’t mean…”  
  
“Shh,” Storm soothed, quickly brushing the dark locks of hair from her youthful face. “It’s all right. Just tell me what happened.”  
  
Kitty appeared with a box of tissues, handing them to Rogue. She gave her new friend a brief, understanding smile. Storm thanked her with a smile of her own, turning back to Marie as the younger girl blew her nose noisily.  
  
“I heard somethin’,” she began quietly. “Couldn’t sleep anyway and I thought I heard Logan sayin’ “No, no more.””  
  
Storm’s heart twisted again. Did he suffer from nightmares? If he did, what sort of things would have such a rash, untamed man asking for mercy? She dragged her thoughts back to the present by force, keeping her features from reflecting the concern.  
  
“I went inside,” Marie continued. “He was lyin’ there, an’ he looked so scared. I tried to wake him up…but I forgot my gloves. He wouldn’t answer me.” She stopped, her voice breaking as she relived it all again.  
  
Ororo nodded. “It’s all right. Just go on.”  
  
“He woke up, but it…he screamed. He looked at me like I was a monster. I think he wasn’t  _really_  awake yet. Saw me as the enemy or somethin’. His claws came out…right through my chest.”  
  
With another gasp, Storm covered her hands with her robe sleeves, grasping for Marie’s chin. She inspected her face, arms, and back carefully, looking for any sign that she was bleeding or injured. The only thing Ororo found were three tiny droplets of blood on the white nightgown and smooth, pale skin.  
  
“His mutation,” Storm realized aloud. “You absorbed it when you touched him.”  
  
Marie nodded miserably. “I didn’t mean to. His claws were there and at first, it didn’t hurt. But he…what’s the word…pulled ‘em back in?”  
  
“Retracted,” Ororo offered quickly. “He retracted his claws?”  
  
“Yeah, that’s the word.” Marie sighed, looking somewhat stronger. “It hurt so bad, and he was yellin’ for help. God, he looked so upset, so scared…Oh my God, don’t none of ya’ll ever tell anyone I said that. Specially not him!”  
  
“We promise,” Jubilee and Kitty said from their bed, where they were obviously listening to every word.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Storm assured her. “Tell the rest.”  
  
“Well,” Marie inhaled and exhaled shakily. “I stumbled and reached for him…didn’t realize what I was doin’. Touched his face an’…there were all these flashes. I took part of him, just like Ben. I healed up an’ all, but I couldn’t let go. It was like bein’ caught in a riptide. I felt him…every little bit. Saw what he was thinkin’, feelin’. Someone hurt him so bad and he was dreamin’ about it. I…God, I felt how scared he was when he stabbed me. Storm…I didn’t mean to hurt him.”  
  
The girl burst into tears again and remembering when her own mutation caused such grief, Ororo enveloped her into an embrace without thinking. Crooning softly, nonsense words of comfort, she rocked the young girl back and forth. Rogue clung to her, ensuring their skin would not touch as she took in the consolation of someone unafraid.   
  
 _Ororo?_  
  
Charles. Storm continued to soothe her charge, answering her mentor in the quiet of their minds.  
  
 _Charles? Is everything all right?_  
  
 _Yes._  His response carried a surge of relief.  _Rogue is taking comfort from you, my child. I do not think she has had much of it. Will she be all right in your care?_  
  
Ororo stroked Rogue’s hair tenderly, not ready to release her.  _I think so. Were you listening in?_  
  
 _I do hope you will pardon the intrusion._  He apologized swiftly.  _Jean has settled Logan into his bed. He will likely remain unconscious for several hours, but we both feel he should recover well. Rogue’s mutation only slowed his rapid healing, I suspect he will recuperate more quickly than her former boyfriend._  
  
 _Good._  She tried to tamp down the relief, but Charles’ probing must have detected it. Though he made no mention, she distinctly felt his curiosity, amusement.  _I will put Marie back into bed._  
  
 _Thank you._  
  
When his presence left her mind, Ororo turned her attention back to Rogue. “I just spoke with Charles. Logan will be completely fine in a few hours.”  
  
Rogue’s head popped up, her face ravaged by tears and grief. “Really?”  
  
“You did not think you could keep the Wolverine down, did you?” Ororo teased, smoothing her hair in a maternal manner once more. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. You’ll find that this school is home to all manner of mutant-mishaps.”  
  
Marie relaxed, but came back for another hug. Unable to resist her, Ororo wrapped the slender girl back into her arms, rocking her as a mother might.  
  
~**~  
  
  
The taste of copper brought him from the inky, silent blackness. Groaning at the disgusting taste, wondering idly when he decided to eat a handful of dirty pennies, Logan tried to lift heavy eyelids. His body felt sore, abused,  _drained_  in a way he was not comfortable with. What had they done to him now? Where was he?  
  
He remembered fear. The scent of innocence. Regret. Screaming.  _Marie_.  
  
Struggling with the hold that the deep, unfathomable sleep kept on him, Logan fidgeted on the bed. He distantly heard a soft, cultured voice trying to soothe him. Who was that? Where did they have him? Marie. What happened to Marie?  
  
 _Logan. Logan, wake up._  A scream. Rage.  _Snikt._  A yelp of terror, of surprise. Realization. Cold adamantium through soft, pale flesh. Panic reflected in hazel eyes.  _Help me._  
  
“Marie?”  
  
“It’s all right, Logan.” That voice again. Why wasn’t he afraid of that voice? “You’re at the mansion. Xavier’s School.”  
  
It came back in mismatched flashes of image, scent, and emotion. Still foggy-minded and heavy-limbed, Logan blinked. He caught sight of a benevolent smile and a shiny bald head, relaxing when he realized it was Xavier.  
  
“The girl?” He asked brokenly, fear tickling at his heart.  
  
“She’s all right. She’s fine, Logan.” The X-Men’s leader smiled slightly.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“Whenever Rogue touches someone’s skin, she absorbs their thoughts and memories…their life-force. In the case of mutants, it seems she also absorbs their abilities for a short while.”  
  
“Feels like she almost killed me,” he grunted, still hazy on the details. The Professor’s voice muddled in his mind, but on some level, he thought he understood what had happened.  
  
“If she had held on any longer, she could have.” Xavier replied, his eyes going suddenly distant.  
  
“But she’s ok?” He questioned again, remembering painfully the hurt and fear; the scent of blood mingling with innocence.   
  
“She healed before Cyclops and Jean entered the room. Storm saw to her.”  
  
 _Storm._ A memory of that white-haired beauty whipped through him, momentarily distracting Logan from the matter at hand. She’d taken care of Rogue? Why did that give him a warm feeling in the chest?   
  
“I was sleeping,” Logan recalled, trying to force thoughts of Storm away. “I didn’t know who she was until…”  
  
“Rogue gave Storm the entire story,” Wheels interrupted, as though sensing his discomfort. “She says that you stabbed her while still half-asleep and immediately called for help. That call alerted the others. I daresay she was more upset about harming you than you hurting her.”  
  
Typical, Logan thought with a small grin. He stabs her and the kid blames herself. He shook his head, struggling to sit up. His rapid-healing body regained more strength with every moment to pass, taking the effect of Rogue’s odd mutation away. He wished, fervently, that it would also remove the copper taste from his mouth.  
  
Xavier regarded him quietly as the bedroom door opened with a polite knock. Logan turned, already knowing from the scents that wafted to him, that Storm arrived with breakfast. She’d pulled on another of her tight white tops and a pair of leather pants. She smiled, balancing a tray of warm food in her delicate hands.  
  
“You’re awake,” she greeted, closing the door with her heel. “Jean’s orders are to stay put for a while, but Marie said that was about as likely as getting your eggs to start clucking.”  
  
At ease and alert at her appearance, at her easy banter, Logan tried for a smile. Whatever she had in her hands smelled like heaven, but could not mask the telltale scent of untouched earth and fresh rain that she carried with her. He watched her warily as she came closer, placing the tray on a nightstand.  
  
“I have a class to prepare for,” Charles excused himself, wheeling away from the bed. It was then that Logan realized the old man still wore a bathrobe over his pajamas and slippers. Xavier stayed with him, he understood, all through a comatose sleep until he woke. Logan felt an odd sort of comfort in that. No one, in what he could recall, ever waited for him to recover, hovering by a bedside.  
  
Storm caught his gaze and her smile melded into something understanding. She dropped him a wink before opening the door for her mentor. Logan wondered, briefly, if she would leave as well. But she turned from the door, closing it quietly, and moved back to his bedside.  
  
Because there was no chair, she perched on the edge of his bed. Dark eyes searched his face quickly, her calculating glance making Logan shift again. His chest was still bare, but she seemed untouched by the nudity.   
  
“Marie wanted to come up,” Storm explained quickly. “Kitty and Jubilee insisted she go to class. I promised to bring you breakfast and give you her message.”  
  
Because amusement danced in those warm, chocolate eyes, Logan gave her a half-grin. She smelled so damn good, looked even better. He wondered if she tasted that good, that exotic, that sweet.   
  
“Message?” He answered, sitting up against the headboard and grunting with the effort.   
  
Storm’s hands went to his shoulders, assisting him gently. He wanted to growl at her to step back, hating the weakened state of his body, but the real, unhindered compassion in her eyes stopped him. She only wanted to help. There was no pity in her, only the understanding that he  _hurt_  from the inside.  
  
“I’m not supposed to hear this message,” Storm said primly, her lips twitching. “So I’m going to close my ears while I recite it.”  
  
Entertained, again, by this beautiful minx and her dry sense of humor, Logan nodded seriously. “Thanks.”  
  
She inclined her head regally, putting both hands over her ears in keeping with Marie’s wishes. “Logan, I’m sorry I got too familiar and almost got us both a lotta hurt. I’m not mad. I’ll see you later. Eat your breakfast, Dr. Grey and I made it just for you.”  
  
Logan’s heart tripped. The kid really did care, he mused. She actually gave a damn if she hurt him, apologized and everything. No one apologized to him and Logan was quick to return that favor. But something in that kid’s earnest words, delivered by a woman that closely resembled what the dictionary defined as “sexy” made him turn into mush.  
  
For about a second.  
  
“That’s some kid,” he told Storm as she blinked at him. Noting her comically uncomprehending stare, he chanced a chuckle. “You can listen in now.” He reached up, ignoring lingering pain, to take her hands from her ears.  
  
His hands burned at the brief touch of skin on skin. Her fingers danced over his quickly, as though testing the waters. That one swipe of fingertips made his heart pound, ears picking up the sound of her caught breath and it’s quick release.  
  
She controlled herself pretty well, he noted, breaking contact. “Wheels said you talked to her.”  
  
“I did,” Storm responded, reaching for his tray. She unfolded the legs of it, settling the food over his lap before handing him a napkin. “She is understandably upset.”  
  
“Maybe I should, I dunno, go see her.” He watched her cautiously, every hair on his body standing up, which was a neat trick for a guy covered in it.   
  
“She’s fine,” Storm insisted, motioning to his breakfast. “I convinced her that it was an accident. Cyclops and Jean traded stories of my…mishaps over breakfast before class. She seemed much calmer.”  
  
Logan looked down at his tray, listening to the lift and lilt of her smooth voice. There were eggs – scrambled because it was always a safe bet – thick slabs of buttered toast, crisp bacon, hot sausage links, steaming coffee and slices of a bright, ripe orange. He scowled.  
  
“Fruit.”  
  
Storm laughed, which she had not yet done in his presence. He glanced at her, enjoying the rich, warm sound as it bounced merrily off the walls of his room. She shook her head, reached over, and with the grace of a thief, stole his orange slices. “I figured you were a “Me Man, Eat Meat” sort, but Jean insisted.”  
  
“Have at it,” he grumbled, taking up the fork. She nonchalantly munched on the sweet fruit, juice staining her lips. When she licked it off, all he could think was that he’d rather lick those pouting lips, thanks.  
  
Forcing himself to think of Rogue, he speared a sausage link and popped it into his mouth.  
  
“She healed up fine?” He asked around a mouthful.  
  
His companion shot him an unimpressed look. “Nice manners. Yes, she doesn’t even have a scar. The poor thing cried, wondering if she’d hurt you.”  
  
“Cried?” He shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean to make her cry.”  
  
A warm hand patted his knee and he felt that burn, even through the material of his blankets.  _She’s taken, bub, remember that. You’re playing with fire._    
  
“Its all right,” Storm replied soothingly. “I believe that when her mutation activated, no one thought to comfort her. She was the aggressor, the boy a victim.”  
  
Logan growled. “She didn’t mean to. Either time.”  
  
“I know it,” Storm agreed. “In fact, her absorbing your mutation prevented a long, uncomfortable recovery. You stabbed, she absorbed, all is well in Mutant High.”  
  
Amused again, Logan shook his head and swallowed a mouthful of eggs. Whoever cooked his breakfast deserved a medal. “Mutant High?”  
  
“Ah, the illustrious Bobby Drake nicknamed the school shortly after his arrival, unfortunately it stuck.” She polished off the orange slices, glanced at him, and then stole a piece of toast.  
  
“Watch it, woman,” he snarled good-naturedly. “Dangerous to mess with a man’s food.”  
  
“I’ll try to hold my terror in check.” She winked again. His heart thudded. “In any case, Marie is fine. So stop worrying, Logan. By the time you’ve eaten and bathed, her first class will be over and you can check in with her.”  
  
“Not a bad idea,” he agreed, working on the bacon. He regarded her carefully for a moment, wondering what she saw in One-Eye. “So, where’s Scott?”  
  
“Teaching his early shop class,” she replied easily. “Why?”  
  
Logan shrugged. “Got a stick up his ass or is it me?”  
  
To her credit, Storm allowed a slight chuckle to escape before her composure snapped back into place. “It’s you. Normally he runs about singing show tunes and dancing the Macarena.”  
  
Unable to help himself, the mental image of her ruby-eyed boyfriend far too amusing, Logan chuckled. “You’re funny.”  
  
“I know.” She gave him an unconcerned wink, finishing off the toast and looking at his tray again.  
  
“Does he feed you?” He offered her a strip of bacon from the end of his fork.  
  
“I’m sorry, it’s habit.” Storm didn’t seem all that repentant to him as she bit into his bacon. “Whenever anyone eats in front of me, I pilfer. It used to drive Scott insane.”  
  
God, he hated thinking about that stuck up kid with his hands on this wild goddess, but every time she said his name, Logan’s mind betrayed him. “What do you see in him?”  
  
He had not intended for that to slip out. Storm glanced up from her bacon, regarding him with cool dark eyes. Her warmth was gone and it reminded Logan of the incident in the Professor’s office. Protect. She possessed the need to protect. It seemed to be instinct, something he could understand.  
  
“All right,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t lie. It easy last night, when I was upset for you manhandling my family, but…”  
  
Logan felt his eyebrow hitch. What was this? “Lyin’, darlin’?”  
  
She had the grace to flush slightly under that caramel skin. “Scott isn’t my lover, Wolverine. He is engaged to Jean.”  
  
His heart thudded again. That was getting annoying, though he could not control it. Bewildered for a moment, processing what this meant, Logan blinked. “Jean?”  
  
She smirked. “Jean, about so tall?” She gestured with her hand. “Red hair, big green eyes, long legs.”  
  
He paused, teasing, pretending to concentrate. “Legs…I’m remembering legs.”  
  
Storm rolled her eyes heavenward. “Men.”  
  
He thought about it for a moment. The tall, leggy red head and the proud, All-American boy. For some reason, that mental picture  _fit_. It just seemed _right_  somehow. Logan relaxed a fraction, his brow going back up as Storm observed him cautiously.  
  
“Liar.”  
  
The goddess scowled. “I did not lie. I told you that I sleep alone.”  
  
So she had. Damn. “Got me there.”  
  
Perhaps she read something in his eyes, or he inched toward her, but Storm stood sinuously. Logan watched her move, wanting to know if her curves would fit in his hands. He bet they would, just right, just perfect. Hot skin and smoky laughter.   
  
Logan might want to get the hell out of here, but Storm might make the stay interesting.  
  
“I’m not interested,” she announced quietly.   
  
“In what, darlin’?” He drawled, taking his now empty tray and setting it aside.   
  
“In you,” Storm replied quickly. “Or anyone. I don’t have time for romantic entanglements right now.”  
  
Because he scented the lie, the nerves, Logan stood. He stalked her. She backed toward the door, but not out of fright or submission. He couldn’t put his finger on why she retreated when there was no fear on her scent.  
  
“Now, who said anything about romance?”  
  
“Sexual, then,” she countered without missing a beat. “I’m not interested, Wolverine.”  
  
“I think you are,” he said quietly, dimly noting his strength was back in full. “I am. Very interested.”  
  
Storm’s hand fell to the doorknob before her back hit the wood. “Too bad.”  
  
With that, she opened the door, stepped into the hall, and slammed it behind her. _Oh, yeah_ , Logan thought as he listened to her measured, retreating steps, he was very interested.


	4. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott warns Ororo away from Logan, but Rogue's sudden disappearance changes everyone's priority.

 

**Chapter Four: Complications**

  
  
  
Something about riding always left Ororo with a feeling of calm. Just strapping the saddle onto Radi’s broad back gave her comfort. She could just disappear for a couple of hours; rediscover secret places in the forests or by the river. Radi would run all day if she asked it of him, taking her further from home and responsibility.  
  
Today they rode straight north, into the thick trees that surrounded their home. Radi’s powerful body took them swiftly through the underbrush, sending woodland creatures scurrying for cover. Her horses’ breath clouded in the cool autumn air, the grunt of exertion lost in the pounding of hooves on the soft loam below.  
  
Ororo let herself smile as she crouched low on Radi’s back. They effortlessly jumped a fallen log, the horse scarcely needing the direction of reins and bridle. She smiled into the midday sun, lifting her face to the glowing orb in absolute worship.   
  
Though the temperature inched toward fifty, the rider wore no coat or even long sleeves. For this ride, she wanted to feel the horse move beneath her, so she donned a simple dress of cloud-soft cotton. Her feet were bare and her hair loose to dance with the wind. Out here, she was not the teacher of children or the righter of mutant wrongs. Here, she could simply be Ororo; a woman out for a ride with her beloved mount.  
  
She kept Radi at a rolling canter, careful with his brittle legs in the uncertain ground. When she pulled him up by the reins to look about, the horse pounded the ground and threatened to rear up. Ororo laughed, the sound bouncing through the trees. Storm reached forward to stroke his beautiful neck, leaning so he would turn that massive head to meet her eyes.  
  
“Do you want to run, my darling?” She questioned in the swift click of flawless Swahili.  
  
Radi reared gently, tossing his wild mane. Ororo laughed again. “All right. To the river and back, fast as you can.”  
  
Her heels tapped his flanks slightly in the stirrups and Radi reared higher. He tore off into the wild, kicking up dead leaves and earth with every mighty stride. Ororo could not hold back the yelp of cheer, clutching the reins to prevent an accidental fall. Radi vaulted over another log in one beautiful leap, landing at a dead run that not even Hell could falter.  
  
Trees whizzed by at the wonderful speed, Ororo’s hair caught behind her like a banner. She wondered, briefly, what a picture they made together. The powerful thoroughbred stallion changed directions swiftly, between enormous oaks with a preternatural swiftness. Ororo often told her friends that Radi was not a pet or a means to ride, but her soul mate on a level not many would understand.   
  
“Storm?”  
  
She turned her head sharply, pulling lightly on the reins. The rider whispered in her native tongue to slow the rushing stallion, hearing another call of her codename from behind them. Recognizing the voice, she yanked the reins, turning her mount sharply.  
  
“Scott?”  
  
With the serenity altered by her friend, Ororo kicked at her horse again, sending Radi on a swift trot through the woods. Scott was calling for her, several meters back. She leaned up in the stirrups, searching the trees carefully for Scott’s coffee mare.  
  
“Marco!” He called from the left.  
  
Ororo smiled. “Polo!”  
  
He appeared seconds later on his winded Quarter. Unlike Ororo, Cyclops was dressed for the weather in a thick wool coat and sturdy brown boots. He gave her a broad smile, nodding as the horses nickered at one another familiarly.  
  
“Great day for a ride,” he greeted fondly. “Thought I’d join you.”  
  
“Why Scott Summers,” Ororo teased. “Don’t you have a class?”  
  
“Not this morning,” he replied, pulling Holly up beside Radi. “The new parts for my Mazda aren’t in. You two gave us a chase.”  
  
“Ah,” Storm hummed. “Radi was in the mood to run. Good morning, Holly.”  
  
The Quarter Horse tilted her head at Ororo in greeting. Both riders turned back toward the river, urging their mounts into another gentle gallop. Scott lapsed into silence, looking up at what would be a red-tinted sun and similarly hued sky. Ororo smiled at him, marveling that it took a person so much clothing to be warm on such a day.  
  
Her mutation granted immunity to cold, so she could enjoy a bikini in five feet of snow easily. Jean usually pouted about that.  
  
“How is Marie doing?” She asked as the horses took them through the forest.  
  
“I didn’t see her.” Scott answered quietly. “I did see Logan though. The Professor is delving into his mind today.”  
  
Ororo grinned, turning to look at her friend. “I am quite sure that will be an interesting story. Has Jean learned any more about his mutations?”  
  
Scott grunted. “Not really. I caught some of what the Professor was saying to him. Whoever did this to Wolverine had no regard for his life. His nightmares seem to be flashes of memory about the ordeal, but nothing coherent.”  
  
Ororo nodded silently, mulling over this information. She’d wondered what a man so dangerous as this Wolverine could fear. The unknown, Ororo thought with a pang of sympathy, the ghosts who came in the night to torture without reason or explanation. He injured his young friend while those ghosts consumed him, waking to the horror that he’d committed such crimes himself.  
  
“’Roro?”  
  
“Yes?” She turned to Scott once more.  
  
Scott reached for her reins, halting the progression of both horses. By the set to his jaw, Ororo knew he was going to say something unpleasant or insulting, so she braced for it. Scott seemed to chew on his tongue for several seconds, deciding on which words to use so he did not hurt her feelings too badly.  
  
“We don’t know anything about him,” her friend began slowly. “He’ll be gone before you’ve turned around twice.”  
  
Surprised, Storm arched a white brow. “What is your meaning?”  
  
He sighed. “Don’t get involved, sweetpea. Logan isn’t the type that sticks around for long. I just…I don’t want to see you get hurt.”  
  
Before Ororo could respond, Scott’s head snapped up sharply. Holly whinnied and shifted uncomfortably, as though sensing the change in her rider’s mood. Because Ororo stiffened as well, Radi pawed at the earth, nickering gently.  
  
“It’s Jean,” Scott told his companion quietly. “Shit. Rogue’s missing. We’ve gotta get back.”  
  
Ororo yanked on the reins, dug her heels into Radi’s flank, and urged her mount to push the limits of his speed. She heard the pounding hoof beats of Scott’s horse behind her, but Radi was built for long-range running and easily outstripped the born sprinter.   
  
Rogue. What happened? She was fine just hours ago. Goddess, where could she have gone? She knew no one in New York and for all they knew, Magneto would attempt to use the girl to draw Wolverine out of his safe house.  
  
With no other thought than Rogue’s safety in mind, Ororo and Radi burst through the tree line and raced for the mansion’s stables. All the while, Storm prayed to her goddess that they would find Rogue.  
  
~**~  
  
“Whattya mean she’s  _gone_?”  
  
Wolverine grabbed his borrowed coat from a nearby chair, attempting to shrug it on while verbally eviscerating the pretty doctor and her bald mentor. The woman came to them moments before, telling the Professor that Rogue was missing. Logan gathered from the brief conversation that a boy Rogue was forming a friendship with alerted the X-Woman that no one had seen her in some time.  
  
“Bobby said she was supposed to meet him for lunch,” Jean explained in a soothing tone. “I thought she might be with Jubilee or Kitty, but my mindsweep didn’t find her.”  
  
Logan moved to the door, intent on finding her. He ignored the Professor and Jean’s calls to come back, knowing only the need to protect her.  
  
“Logan?”  
  
He pulled up short when Storm opened the door before he could. She swept into the room, compassion and worry shining from those dark eyes. For some reason, her sudden appearance calmed Wolverine enough that the red leaked from his vision. She patted his hand gently, giving the newcomer a small, understanding smile.  
  
“Professor,” Cyclops called as he entered. “Where is she?”  
  
“I have not been able to check,” Charles replied. Logan continued to stare at Storm, as though hoping she had the answers he needed. “Logan?”  
  
“What?” He snapped, turning to look at the bald man.  
  
“Come with us to the lower levels.”  
  
“We need to find Rogue.” Logan countered, moving to exit the room again. Storm stopped him by blocking the path, her hands grasping his wrists gently.  
  
“That is exactly what we will do,” she explained softly. “Trust us. We want to find her as much as you do.”  
  
For a reason Logan feared he might never understand, he relaxed. The determination in Storm’s eyes kept him tethered to reality while the beast within raged to be set free. He followed her faithfully down the hall with the others, back into the expansive underground.   
  
Xavier moved to a door bearing the signature “X”. When the door opened, Logan held back while the Professor wheeled himself inside. He glanced at Storm for an explanation, one eyebrow arched inquisitively.  
  
It was then he noted the unusual state of her clothing. Instead of the tight trousers and form-fitting tops he’d seen her wear already, she’d donned a cotton sundress of pale blue. Thin straps modeled slender shoulders and her feet, for some reason, were bare. Logan sampled the air, finding the distinct scent of horse clinging to her body.   
  
That long hair twisted in coils to her waist. Logan’s hands itched to touch it, to see if it could possibly be as soft as it looked. She dropped her lashes coyly, then cleared her throat to speak.  
  
“Cerebro,” Storm explained. “A supercomputer that the Professor taps into with his mind. From there, he can monitor brain signatures, locating anyone on the planet.”  
  
Logan blinked in disbelief. “He has  _that_  much power?”  
  
“Cerebro amplifies his mutation,” Jean chimed in. “It’s a brilliant design.”  
  
“Why doesn’t he use that to find Magneto?” Logan inquired, looking from one woman to the other. “Wouldn’t that solve all your problems?”  
  
This time, Cyclops spoke up. “He built a helmet to resist mental probing.”  
  
“How’d he know how to do that?”  
  
Storm touched his arm. “Think, Logan. That room is made of metal. He helped Charles build it.”  
  
Wolverine jammed his fingers into his eyeballs. “Great. Just fucking great.”  
  
No one bothered to respond, but Logan felt Storm’s fingers brush his hand gently. That simple touch, one that he felt could never cause pain, demanded a return. He swept his fingers over hers, dropping his other hand to meet the impossible depths of her eyes. She held his gaze without fear, curiosity reflecting from deep ebony once more.   
  
Her head tilted slightly in her slow study of him. He saw her eyes dart over his features, as though truly looking at him for the first time. Her lips curved into a sensual pout, confusion clouding those brilliant eyes. Logan could not look away, no matter how his instinct told him to run from this gorgeous woman. What was it about her that made a man stop and just  _stare_?  
  
Logan scented anger in the air and judged from the direction it wafted from that Scooter was none too happy about the extended eye-lock between Storm and Wolverine.  
  
Wasn’t that just too damn bad?  
  
The Professor reappeared a moment later, tearing Logan’s attention from the goddess before him. He did, however, catch her sharply exhaled breath and a gasp of air. She’d been holding her breath. That thought almost made a smile creep across Logan’s face.  
  
“She’s at the train station.”  
  
“Where is it?” Logan demanded.

“Two miles north,” Jean answered absently.  
  
At the doctor’s words, Logan immediately turned to leave. Storm’s eyes followed him.  
  
“Logan. Stop,” Charles commanded gently. “Magneto is still out there.”  
  
He turned sharply, ignoring Storm as best he could. “I’m the reason she took off.”  
  
“Its all right,” Storm interjected. “She’s just upset.”  
  
“Storm, Cyclops, go get her.” The Professor commanded. Cyclops nodded and, to Logan’s great surprise, actually gave Wolverine a reassuring smile.  
  
Storm moved to follow her friend, but paused long enough to meet Wolverine’s eyes once more. She curved her lips into a similar smile, something bubbling in that dark gaze.  
  
“We’ll bring her back. Don’t worry.”  
  
She rushed off after her friend, leaving Logan with the Professor and the doctor. He couldn’t just sit around while Storm and Cyclops went after Rogue. Hell, what would they say to a scared girl? They wouldn’t have the first clue what to say. Sure, maybe they handled kids on a regular basis, but Rogue wasn’t a normal kid.  
  
He knew the need to run when things looked grim. Did she think someone was out to hurt her? Or that her new home was in jeopardy this time? From what Jean told him, Marie’s parents ran her off for being born different. That required a special touch.  
  
Pretending to storm off in a huff, Logan stomped down the hall and into the elevator. Careful to keep up his angry thoughts, he pulled the jacket on and moved toward the garage. From the dime tour Xavier gave him the day before, he remembered a vast amount of cars awaiting a driver. Surely, someone trusting might have left the keys lying around.  
  
He closed the door quietly and stepped inside, looking through the cars quickly. Spotting a cherry red Mustang and midnight blue Mazda, he moved through them, searching for something a little more his style.   
  
The motorcycle was an obvious choice, so he jumped on. The keys were waiting in the ignition and Logan roared the bike to life.  
  
“Oh, yeah. Hell, this is a bike.”  
  
With no memory of how he knew, he operated the controls quickly, easing the bike out of the garage and onto the street. The garage door closed some distance behind him, but Logan never looked back. He could find the kid by scent. Maybe he’d get her to come back to the relative safety of Xavier’s mansion.  
  
He never stopped to contemplate why that was so important.  
  
~**~  
  
  
Scott swore the entire five-minute drive to the train station, several of his epithets sending Ororo’s eyebrows into her hairline. Cyclops rarely swore, but when he did it was with flair and extended vocabulary.   
  
She’d changed into leather pants and a white top for the trip, wanting to blend into the crowd. A young woman wearing a sundress in October might draw a few strange glances. Her leather coat was too long, but it kept up the illusion that she needed to be warm.   
  
“He took my goddamn bike.” Scott spat angrily as they stepped out of her car. “I told you, he can’t be trusted. The Professor is going to peel his mind like an onion for this.”  
  
“Wishful thinking?” Ororo quipped, closing the car door.  
  
He glared at her from behind his visor. “Funny. This isn’t a joke. Magneto could have him by now!”  
  
“Shh!” Ororo hissed, grabbing his arm to quiet her friend. “Lets just find Rogue and get home. Hopefully he hasn’t gone far.”  
  
“I don’t care what happens to him,” Cyclops responded, shoving the station’s door open. “I only care about what Magneto can do with him.”  
  
Ororo pulled up short, turning to glare at her beloved friend. “Such dismissal is unworthy of you, Cyclops.”  
  
Like a chastised child, Scott closed his mouth, nodding miserably. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.”  
  
His companion sighed, shoving her hands into her coat pocket. “You shouldn’t even think it. You look around, I’ll check with the ticket agent. With your foul mouth, I don’t want you to risk starting a riot.”  
  
“Ha-freaking-ha.” He called after her.  
  
Storm picked her way through the crowd, moving toward the ticket agent as fast as she could while searching the vicinity for her young charge. Seeing no one close to her description, Ororo continued on. The agent rolled his eyes when she approached, but a quick interjection of the line ensured she was next.  
  
Worry tickled at her heart, trying to tap into the mutation she’d been born with. If she lost control of that emotion, the skies would darken with thick, milky fog. That, of course, would not help the search at all. No, she had to control herself.  
  
But Storm knew her enemy. Magneto cared nothing for human lives, seeing the un-mutated as nothing more than chattel. The Professor might not be willing to submit to open combat; she was not so sure about their former friend. Erik Lensherr had the tenacity of a rabid dog and the means to achieve whatever ends he designed.   
  
Though the X-Men trained for years, their mettle had not yet been tested. Ororo feared that test might come swiftly, like a summer storm. She hated to think that one of her own could fall in battle or that they might be forced to kill for their ideals.  
  
She promised herself, so many years ago, that she would never take another human life. If she continued on this path, could she keep that promise?  
  
“Hello,” Ororo greeted the ticket agent. “I’m looking for a student from Xavier’s School.”  
  
“Ah,” the older man nodded. “What’s she look like, honey?”  
  
“She’s fifteen. About my height,” Storm informed him quickly. “Brown hair, hazel eyes, quite slender and skittish.”  
  
Footsteps behind her and the menacing presence turned her before she could finish. Ororo felt her eyes widen with surprise, with fear as Sabertooth approached her. The civilians moved back slowly, as though terrified that any sudden movement might take the blonde beast’s attention from her to them.  
  
Before she could summon the strength to resist, the much-larger mutant wrapped one massive, clawed hand about her throat. Ororo felt her flesh burn as those razor-sharp claws tore her flesh apart. The warmth of her own blood trickled down her neck as Sabertooth brought her closer.  
  
“Scream for me,” he whispered in a feral growl.   
  
He might be likened to Wolverine, she thought dazedly, but Logan never put this kind of fear into her. Sabertooth shoved her back with one hand, her feet dangling off of the floor. The glass behind her cracked, the impact making her head swim unpleasantly.  
  
With her voice stolen, Ororo turned her thoughts inward to call for help.  
  
 _SCOTT!_  
  
The cry echoed in their mental link, bringing both Jean and the Professor into it. She felt Scott move, but before he could reach her a powerful beam of red light destroyed the roof of the train station.  
  
Ororo knew in that instant, that Cyclops must be blind. His optic beams were not controllable when released from the ruby-lenses of his visor or glasses. Someone – and she had a sneaking suspicion of whom – took his protective lenses. Unfortunately, Storm was on her own for the moment.  
  
Drawing on her mutation, Ororo called down lightning. Her eyes stung as they transformed from deep cocoa to blinding white. Static electricity crackled through the air, making hair stick up all over Sabertooth’s body. He squeezed her throat, the lack of oxygen clouded her vision, so she concentrated on the body holding her immobile. If she got this right, just perfect, no innocent bystander would be injured.  
  
With a deafening  _crack_  thunder preceded lightning. The immense bolt of pure energy charged through the air, splitting Sabertooth apart from his captive. Ororo fell to the floor, clutching at her neck and rolling onto her back. Gasping for air, she once again called into their mental link.  
  
 _Scott? Scott, are you hurt?_  
  
 _I’m blind!_  He called back.  _I can’t see anyone. I don’t know where I am._  
  
Storm took one more breath.  _Don’t move. Keep your eyes closed. I’m coming._  
  
She heaved her weak body to her feet, stumbling as she blinked dust and smoke from her eyes. Her clothing bore a burnt streak from the lightning. Storm silently thanked her mutation for the second time today, simply because her system could withstand a lightning strike like a metallic rod.  
  
Debris had fallen everywhere, but there were very few casualties. She ushered many of the injured to leave, the croak of her voice audible. Her neck ached and the gush of blood told her the injury might be worse than she expected. Before she could submit to panic, she had to find Cyclops.   
  
Looking up, Storm noted the decimated roof with an inward sigh. Scott lay beneath the wreckage, his eyes closed tightly. Storm rushed to his side, checking for injuries. Where were Wolverine and Rogue?   
  
“Scott? I’m here, I’m right here.” Storm soothed, cradling his head in her lap.   
  
Cyclops reached up, taking her biceps in his hands. He clung to her, trusting his friend to be his eyes and protector. Ororo held him closely, looking about for any sign of their missing comrades.  
  
“Someone took my visor. I couldn’t get to you,” Scott explained quickly. “You ok? All I saw was Sabertooth holding you by the throat.”  
  
“I’m fine,” she answered, not bothering to explain the injuries. It would be better if he didn’t know. For now.  
  
“You’re hurt,” Cyclops insisted. “I know you, Ororo. You’re hurt. Where’s Wolverine?”  
  
 _Be still._  
  
The quiet command of their mentor silenced both.   
  
 _We have a situation outside,_  Jean explained patiently.  _I’m not sure where Wolverine is, but he’s unconscious._  
  
 _Rogue?_  Scott asked.  
  
 _Magneto has her,_  Jean went on.  _But there are a dozen police out here. Magneto is threatening to kill them all._  
  
“We have to stop him.” Scott attempted to stand, stumbling blindly.  
  
 _You can’t…Storm?_  Jean paused and Scott halted.  _Talk to me, pumpkin._  
  
 _I am dizzy,_  Ororo replied weakly.  _Scott is right. I am injured._  
  
“Shit,” Scott reached for her, clumsy with his lack of sight. “Hold on, honey. The Professor will get everything under control.”  
  
She sat back on her rear end, her head spinning. Ororo put her hand to the wound on her neck, trying to stop the bleeding as Cyclops continued monitoring the situation with Jean. She tuned them both out, concentrating on her own body. Now that the innocents were out of harm’s way, she could relax, if only for a moment.  
  
Running footsteps barely registered in her weakened state, nearly covered by the  _thwap thump_  of a helicopter approaching. It was not until she felt two strong arms envelop her that Ororo realized she was drifting into unconsciousness.  
  
“Storm?”  
  
She blinked heavy eyes. “Huh?”  
  
“Logan?” Scott whipped around. “Is that you?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s me,” the gruff mutant replied. He shrugged out of his coat, took the flannel shirt from his chest and pushed it onto Ororo’s neck. “Wheels said Magneto’s out there.”  
  
“With a dozen cops.” Cyclops responded. To her whirling brain, the words were slurred and slow.  
  
“Storm? Stay awake,” Logan commanded sharply.  
  
“What’s happening?” Scott demanded, fear evident in his voice. “What’d that asshole do to her?”  
  
“He sliced her a little,” Logan shot back. “Why weren’t you helping her, you jackass?”  
  
“He’s blind,” Ororo offered gently. “Took his visor.”  
  
Logan looked up to Cyclops, surprise on his features when he realized the man’s eyes were squeezed closed. He glanced to the roof and Ororo could almost see the proverbial tumblers clicking into place.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Is she all right?” Cyclops questioned in a kinder tone.  
  
“Yeah. Got a minor head wound, that’s making her sleepy.” Logan explained quickly. “The cuts on her throat are from claws, but he missed anything major. She’ll be fine with some bandages and pain meds.”  
  
Silence stretched between them.  
  
“Thanks.” Scott said bitterly.  
  
“No problem.” Logan turned his attention back to Ororo. “Stay awake, darlin’. Professor’ll give the all-clear in a minute.”  
  
Storm nodded. “Rogue?”  
  
 _Come out now,_  Jean said sadly into all three minds.  _There’s nothing more we can do here._


	5. Papercut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the train station fight and finally, the famous RoLo "At least I've chosen a side" scene.

“Bring her in here. Don’t let go, Wolverine.”  
  
He didn’t think that was physically possible. Thoughts of Rogue and power-tripping mutants had all but fled his brain completely. He half-carried Storm through the lower halls of Xavier’s School, one hand clasping his flannel shirt over her bleeding throat. The gashes worsened during the short drive from the train station, coating his hands in her blood.  
  
They barely made it out without capture. Thanks to Magneto, the police were on a mutant hunt, especially given a few eyewitnesses. One called down lightning; the other took the damn roof off. Granted, some did say that the white-haired woman tried to get them all to safety, but all the cops heard was “mutant” and “destruction”.  
  
Cyclops stumbled along behind them, Chuck having gone to consult with that supercomputer while Jean patched up his team.   
  
“All right, Cyclops?” Logan called over his shoulder.  
  
“I’m fine. Shit!”  
  
“Scott?” Jean whipped around.  
  
“Stubbed my toe, just work on Storm.”  
  
Logan dutifully carried the semi-conscious weather manipulator to the medical bed, fighting with his own demons. Fear licked at his heart, as though something bad would happen to anyone lying on such a malicious surface. He struggled for a moment, but the coppery scent of Storm’s blood overrode his inhibitions.   
  
“Keep holding the compress,” Jean ordered sharply. She bustled through the room, gathering supplies. “You’re sure he missed the jugular?”  
  
“She’d be dead already if he hadn’t,” Wolverine shot back. He scooped up Ororo’s legs, laid her carefully on the crisp white sheets.   
  
When Jean came to the bedside, she wheeled an instrument cart with her. Logan blinked at the array of equipment, which seemed to mock him as light glinted off the sterile stainless steel. His hand shook slightly against Storm’s neck, stilled when her deep cocoa eyes opened.  
  
“Still with us, ‘Roro?” Jean questioned soothingly. “Turn your head, sweetie. I know it hurts.”  
  
Logan gently grasped that dark chin, exposing the torn flesh for Jean to inspect. The red-haired doctor slowly peeled Logan’s makeshift bandage away, revealing three long gashes that oozed bright crimson. Ororo winced with pain, but remained still.  
  
“This is going to hurt.” Jean explained as she pulled a long cotton swab from her tray and peeled away the sterile packaging. “I’ve got to clean it out. God only knows where Sabertooth’s claws have been.”  
  
At the first touch, Ororo jerked on the bed. Logan made a clicking noise to soothe her, clamping one hand on her chin, the other splaying across her chest to keep her immobile. Jean continued to work with the professionalism of a medical doctor, paying no heed to her friend’s whimpers of pain. Logan had to force himself not to look away, startled by how much this woman’s pain hurt his chest.  
  
“Gotta stay still,” he told her in a low tone. “Jean can’t fix it if you’re floppin’ round like a fish outta water.”  
  
To her credit, Ororo flashed a pained smile at his quip. She nodded once, reaching up to loosen his grip on her chin. Logan relinquished his hold, tilting his head when that caramel-colored hand twitched toward the back of the room.  
  
She hissed with pain while Logan turned. Scott held on to the counter, completely motionless. It looked, Logan thought, as though he refused to move. His blindness made him hazardous in a room filled with breakable objects and harsh chemicals. When Logan looked back to Ororo, there was a plea in her eyes.  
  
“Ok, I gotcha.” He nodded. “I’ll take care of Cyke, darlin’.”  
  
She tossed him another small smile and squeezed his hand before he moved away. Sighing at the internal thought that pretty girls tended to short circuit his brain, Logan took two strides toward Cyclops. The younger man stiffened, as though sensing the personal space invasion.  
  
As gently as he could, Logan quietly if he could lend a hand. The man startled slightly, but turned his face toward Logan, extending a hand slowly for him to take. Curiosity crossed the mutant’s features, as though he wondered why Wolverine bothered to be nice to him. Logan felt a slight twist of guilt as he led the man to a nearby chair. Scott resembled something of a wounded animal, handicapped by the so-called gift he never asked for. He wondered, for some reason, how long the young man was forced to keep his eyes closed tightly to the world before a reasonable antidote was found. Months? Years? Had the Professor found a way to help him? Was that why he stayed on?  
  
Perhaps, in some way, that old man helped them each with extraordinary gifts, creating a tightly knit family no hardship could tear apart.   
  
“Got some spare shades?” Logan grunted to Cyclops.  
  
“Yeah.” He gestured toward a blank wall, obviously turned around. “They’re in a cleaning case on the counter.”  
  
With a quick glance, Logan located the heavy glass case. He let go of Cyclops’ arm, telling him to hold on for a second. Wolverine jogged to the case, careful to avoid bumping into Jean as he skirted the medical bed. The case was locked, but the release button gave way with one quick push. Logan carefully took a glance at the spare visor and two sets of eyeglasses, somewhat startled when he realized the glass was not glass at all.   
  
Upon closer inspection, he found the refraction of the lenses to be more like quartz. Startled that anyone could make such a compound so smooth and moldable, Logan picked up one set of spectacles by the edge of the earpiece. Careful to not smudge or break them, he carried the eyewear back to Cyclops.  
  
The younger mutant took the glasses with a small, grateful smile. He did not open his eyes until the glass completely covered his eyes, giving the young man freedom to see without consequences. Scott nodded to Wolverine, stiffening his back once more. He hated to be weak, Logan assessed immediately. Hated it more so when he showed that weakness to an enemy or someone he scarcely knew.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
Thinking that Cyclops had seen his own weakness cooled some of the animosity from Wolverine’s side of things. Of course, he’d still have to retain the smartass title, but that was more for entertainment than anything.  
  
“How is she?” Cyclops asked as he and Wolverine turned back to the medical bed.  
  
“Fine,” Jean looked up as they approached. “It’ll be sore for a while, but it’s clean and mainly superficial.”  
  
“Good.” Scott smiled to his future wife, then looked down to the girl lying on the bed. “Hey, kid. How’s it hanging?”  
  
“Long and lean,” came the croaky response. “Was anyone else hurt?”  
  
“Nope,” Logan chimed in. “Someone wanted to be the hero.”  
  
Jean caught his gaze and grinned before placing the last strip of bio-tape over her friend’s bandages. She stroked a knuckle over Ororo’s cheek to gain her attention. The darker woman smiled slightly, experimentally turning her head as though gauging the pain.  
  
“Better?” Jean questioned. “I gave you a local so you won’t be woozy.”  
  
At this, Logan looked from one to the other. “She ain’t in fightin’ mode. That yellow-bellied asshole had her by the throat.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Storm tried to interject. “We need to find Rogue.”  
  
At the mention of his charge’s name, Logan pulled up short. In dealing with Storm’s injuries and Scott’s blindness, he’d refused to think of her. Rogue had cried on his shoulder, burdened by a “gift” that made her unable to openly display affection, to feel the comforting touch of someone’s hand on hers without barriers.   
  
His heart twisted painfully at the memory of her tears, how she curled into his chest as though desperately seeking a kindred soul. She didn’t want to leave this haven, but felt forced to because of a stupid accident. He wanted to find her, to ensure she would be all right. Whatever Magneto’s plan was for that young girl, Wolverine refused to simply let him at it. Somehow, he was going to find that maniacal bastard. He would get her back.  
  
 _I’ll take care of you.  
  
Promise?_  
  
The pain in his heart hit somewhere near the soul, or at least where he assumed a soul should reside. He never felt as though one existed for him, but that damn kid brought it out. Made it  _hurt_. He’d promised, damn it, and he wouldn’t break that promise to her, no matter the cost.  
  
Because the pain was so new, so unexpected, Logan fought to turn it back into anger. The rage was better to deal with, familiar and consuming. He couldn’t fight to find the kid if he broke down like a teenager with a broken heart.   
  
Without so much as a backward glance to the others, Logan turned on his heel. His hands were still sticky with Ororo’s dried blood, so he turned that acute pain into anger as well. It boiled and churned inside him, making his vision cloud with crimson. The beast within clawed at his consciousness, begging to be let loose.   
  
As soon as Logan located Magneto, he fully intended on gutting that sick bastard.  
  
~**~  
  
She followed him immediately, silently summoning Charles. When she realized he meant to clean up, she ducked into her room as well. Blood and charred fabric smelled terrible, so Ororo stripped her clothing off and rinsed her arms and chest with a wet cloth. She yanked on a set of trousers and another white top, only because they were handy. Her boots, still in good shape, went back onto her feet and she was out of her bedroom in less than five minutes.  
  
Logan’s door was open and Charles’ wheelchair visible just outside the mutant’s bathroom. Ororo entered quietly, standing opposite Charles as Logan washed his hands and face, dripping her blood into the porcelain basin.  
  
“You said he wanted me.”  
  
“His helmet is designed to withstand mental probing, I couldn’t see what he was after until it was too late.”  
  
Logan grabbed a towel to wipe the water and diluted blood from his face. When he turned, he found her there, pausing to stare at her. She offered a small smile, somehow certain that above it all, he needed to ensure she was fine. His loyalty, even to those he scarcely knew, was overwhelming.   
  
She recalled, no matter how woozy the head injured and rapid blood loss made her, how he’d held the cloth to her throat during the drive. With Scott incapacitated, he drove with one hand like a bat out of hell. He told her to hang on, swearing at Sabertooth, at Magneto, at the giant evil he could not name . Ororo watched the awesome sight of a man on a mission, filled with wrath. But he never let go of her throat, no matter how enraged. He ensured that her blood loss halted, so that Jean could patch her up.  
  
It was faith, she thought now as their eyes met across his dimly-lit bedroom. He had faith in Jean, in everyone. The problem, she realized, was his faith in Charles – what little their mentor gained – now shattered at his feet. Yet another disappointment in what Wolverine could remember. How could anyone revitalize that trust?  
  
When Logan yanked his shirt on, Ororo tilted her head curiously. She thought there was a slight tremble to Logan’s hands, a kind of conviction in his stance. What passed between Rogue and Wolverine on that train? Had they forged a new bond before Magneto appeared to take her away? Did the loyalty and faith Logan showed in spades grow between them?  
  
“Where are you going?” Charles asked as Wolverine came toward the door.  
  
“To find her,” he stated with the passion of a knight swearing fealty to a reigning monarch.  
  
“How?” Ororo interrupted.  
  
“The traditional way,” he shot back while yanking his battered coat on. “ _Look_.”  
  
Charles shook his head to Ororo when Logan stomped from the room. She stared at him in shock.  
  
“We can’t just let him go.”  
  
“We have no claim on him,” Charles explained. “The forty-eight hours are up.”  
  
Still surprised, Ororo crossed her arms, hearing Logan’s heavy footfalls as he stomped down the stairs. She drew herself up, setting her jaw.  
  
“So you abandon him?” Ororo glared at her mentor. “He trusted us, all of us, and now that trust is in tatters. Refusing to help him now will only reinforce the principle that everyone who ever reaches out to him will simply back down. How can you allow that?”  
  
“We must concentrate on finding Rogue and stopping whatever plan Magneto has in motion. It is quite obvious that Logan is of no use.”  
  
“How can you possibly say that?” Ororo replied loudly, ignoring the pain in her throat. “ _No_ mutant is useless. He can help us.”  
  
Charles gave her a sad smile. “He can, yes. But I very much doubt he will.”  
  
At that, Ororo turned and rushed from the room. She ran down the stairs, calling Logan’s name so that it echoed in the empty halls. He paid her no mind, striding toward the front door just as she hit the last landing.  
  
“Logan! You can’t do this alone.”  
  
“Well, you’ve all done a bang up job so far.”  
  
Undeterred, she took several steps until they were face to face. His amber eyes glittered with preternatural rage and a fierce devotion. Ororo felt her heart soften, but knew she had to face him down like wolves in the wild to bring him around.  
  
“Then help us!” She demanded. “Fight with us.”  
  
Logan smirked. “Fight with you? Join the team? Be an X-Man? Who the hell do you think you are?”  
  
Ororo stood proudly, her hands balling into fists at her side. He stared her down as though establishing dominance. She refused to be cowed, meeting those over bright eyes with more courage than she’d needed when face-to-face with Sabertooth. Ororo had never let anyone down before and swallowing that proved difficult indeed. She needed to win back Logan’s trust, not only for the X-Men but because he needed one person to exceed his low expectations.  
  
“I’m fighting for something,” she returned stubbornly.  
  
“For what?” Logan reached out, shifting her hair so the bandages glared from her neck. “You think this is acceptable? You’re a mutant. The whole world hates and fears you, but you waste your time trying to protect them? You’re fighting your  _own kind_. This shouldn’t be acceptable, to anyone.”  
  
Ororo shook her head, slapping his hand from where he reached to touch the injured flesh.  
  
“The Civil War pitted brother against brother, father against son.” She drew herself up further, letting conviction reflect in her every posture. “It was not pretty or truly acceptable, but it was _necessary_.”  
  
Logan chuckled; a dark, sinister sound that sent shivers down Ororo’s spine. Never before had she confronted someone so dangerous, so lost in the evils of the world that it destroyed any hint of good. “Ya know, Magneto’s got somethin’ right. There is a war coming.”  
  
He leaned closer, until she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. “You so sure you’re on the right side?”  
  
At once Ororo set her jaw, churning over his words. “At least I've chosen a side.” At his startled expression, she continued. “You’d rather hide in the mountains, ignoring the world completely. Do  _not_  lecture me on war and ‘our’ kind when you have decided to abandon your own people. At least I fight for something; at least I know where I stand. What do you fight for?”  
  
Logan fell silent, staring at her in an odd mixture of shock and interest.  
  
“Oh,” Ororo spat angrily. “I forgot. You take beatings for money, using your mutation as a means for easy cash. I’m sorry I bothered you. Go. Go back to that life. We will find Rogue. You need not be burdened by our pithy cause any longer.”  
  
The anger came back into his eyes, his stance, with the fury of a tidal wave. He turned sharply, swinging the front door open. Ororo moved to stop him, but took a swift step back when the open door revealed someone standing in the foyer.  
  
“I’m looking for Doctor Jean Grey.”  
  
Ororo peered over Logan’s shoulder. A tall man of middle years stood inches from Logan, leaning heavily on the doorframe. His clothing was matted and dirty, but she immediately recognized the anguished face staring at Wolverine from beneath gray-blonde hair.  
  
“Senator?”  
  
Logan glanced at her over his shoulder, just in time for Senator Kelly to collapse. Wolverine caught the man, bracing his legs and grunting under the sudden weight.  
  
“Get Jean,” Logan demanded. “Somethin’ ain’t right.”  
  
~**~  
  
After they deposited Senator Kelly with the Professor and Jean, Ororo made herself scarce. She fumed and raged as much as she could without detriment to the weather. When she got this way, she tended to stray into the atrium, where her indoor plants gave comfort and solace.  
  
How dare he speak to her that way? What right did that “lone wolf” have to lecture her on sides and “your own” people? She made this decision years ago, knowing the costs. There were innocent lives – both human and mutant – hanging in precarious balance. Who but mutants could fight this fight?   
  
Being angry at Wolverine made it easier. She knew there was attraction there and now Scott’s not-so-cryptic warning made a lot more sense. Who was she kidding? They could never tame the Wolverine. He would ever rush off into the wild, to be alone where people dared not tread. He was likely to fade into the shadows; abandon any hope of becoming a part of something. Did he not understand how wonderful it could be? The X-Men and Charles Xavier gave Ororo a home when she believed there could be none.  
  
They brought her from adolescent worship to a thriving and educated adult. Logan had no idea what that meant to someone. If he gave them a chance, without that rock hard cynicism, there might be a place for him here. This could be his home.  
  
Why did she want that for him? It was painfully obvious that he did not want or need this kind of home. She believed in people, in their innate goodness. Humans were no different from mutants, aside from a slight variance in DNA. Each had the capacity for great good and great evil. All that stood between them was fear and misinformation. Ororo firmly believed that one day there would be peace with humans and mutants.  
  
Wolverine had no idea how people could behave. He knew only what fifteen short years of isolation and fear did to someone.  
  
“Storm?”  
  
At hearing his unwelcome voice, Ororo simply kept hovering. She was a few feet off the ground, watering ferns that she cut herself in the greenhouse. They thrived here in the atrium, which constantly filled with sun. The mini-rain cloud in her palm saturated the soil of the pots, bringing home the scent of wet earth and growth.  
  
Scott called her gardening a cheap, convenient therapist.  
  
“Storm.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Her irritated response made him smile and her rain cloud clapped with miniature thunder.   
  
“That’s a cute trick,” Logan said conversationally. “Thought you only worked outdoors.”  
  
In response, Ororo turned, showing off her little storm. The warm updraft she kept below made her bob and dip in the air without disturbing the rest of the house.  
  
“I can bring the elements anywhere I am,” she replied coolly. “It merely takes concentration and will.”  
  
“Huh,” he grunted, leaning on the doorjamb with his thumbs hooked in denim belt loops. “Can I ask you somethin’?”  
  
Ororo turned back to her plants, continuing to water them methodically. “You just did.”  
  
“Smart ass,” he grumbled. She smiled, hiding it with her turned back.   
  
“I think you should answer a question of mine,” she replied. Storm turned the updraft off, landing gracefully on her feet. The tiny rain cloud was dispersed with a negligent flicker of her hand, a stylistic move that Jean absolutely loved.  
  
Her redheaded friend swore it would terrify mere mortals for it was such a show of control. Ororo studied Logan’s reaction, not startled to find his eyes widen in appreciation. Marking that as a score in her favor, she walked toward him slowly.  
  
“What do you remember?” She questioned softly. “What is so terrible that everyone you meet is an immediate enemy?”  
  
For a moment, she thought he might not answer. In fact, she distinctly caught the expression of a man set to rage and run. It cut close to the bone, she thought with a pang of sympathy. Someone destroyed him, then simply forgot he existed. How could anyone dispose of a life without caution or regret?   
  
“I don’t remember much,” he answered as though the very words caused acute pain. “I remember waking up. It was cold.”  
  
She stepped closer, no matter how he stiffened as though to warn her away. Ororo did not fear him, so she took another step and then a third, even as his pain-filled voice drifted into the quiet room.  
  
“I was somewhere in the cold, lyin’ naked in the snow.” Logan paused, tilting his head as though trying to piece together a memory from puzzle blocks. “I had blood on my hands. I was hurtin’, a pain so deep, I didn’t think I could live through it.”  
  
Storm reached for him, her heart aching. His hand drifted up from the belt loop, taking hers the instant the distance between closed. She took a few final steps, standing so close she could smell the sweat and soap on his skin, hear the frantic beat of his heart. His hand trembled slightly, everything pointing to signs of a panic attack.  
  
Ororo knew those symptoms well.  
  
“My head was spinning.” Wolverine went on in that curiously quiet tone. “I kept screamin’. Didn’t know why. Still don’t, for that matter. Wasn’t nothin’ anywhere near me. Just trees and mountains and snow.”  
  
“Logan…”  
  
“All I had was a pair of dog tags round my neck.” He touched his throat, as though looking for them. “Lost ‘em when you and One-Eye yanked me outta Canada.”  
  
“You remember nothing?” She searched his face, squeezing his hand.  
  
“I found some clothes, started wanderin’ an’ a coupla days later, I remembered a name.”  
  
Ororo smiled. “Logan.”  
  
Wolverine nodded. “Didn’t know what I was, but I knew it wasn’t natural. Kept tryin’ to break the claws, nothin’ worked. Didn’t know what it was called, til Jeannie told me.”  
  
Sympathy filled her heart and Ororo fought the urge to gather him in her arms. “No one tried to help you?”  
  
He gave her a slightly patronizing smile. “Darlin’, I’ve been shot just for survivin’ fist fights. Been stabbed for less. Every time someone said they could help me put together my past, they let me down. Everyone wants somethin’ from everybody else.”  
  
“Oh?” She arched a white brow. “What do I want from you?”  
  
Logan seemed to mull over this for a moment, his eyes locked onto hers. There was still pain in those amber eyes, but mingled now with that same attraction and heat that she recalled from their first meeting. It quickened her heart, shorted her breath, made her skin tingle in places she wasn’t sure it could.   
  
“You want me to be a man I can’t be.”  
  
Unable to believe those words left his mouth, Ororo stared. “I want you to be the man you are. But to do that, you have to trust  _someone_.”  
  
“I trust you.”  
  
Startled by the truth she felt in that statement, she could barely breathe. “Logan…”  
  
He gently reached up, his hand lost in the curling white of her hair. He took her by the nape, careful to not disturb the injuries of Sabertooth’s attack. Before Ororo could protest, Logan took her mouth with his, lifting her onto the balls of her feet for better access. Heat spread through Ororo’s veins like a wild fire, exploding here and there until the beautiful burn robbed her of breath.  
  
Logan pulled her chest flush with his before he dropped her hand to catch her under the arms. He lifted and turned until her back hit the doorframe. Ororo brought her legs up so they coiled about his waist, her arms mimicking the pose around his neck. Logan groaned into her mouth, parting her lips with an insistent tongue. She gave into the urging, opening her mouth to allow him unfettered access.  
  
Tongues and teeth clashed in a desperate attempt to get closer. When breath demanded they break apart, she distantly heard Logan’s voice.  
  
“I don’t get it,” he nearly swore. “What is it about you? I can’t stop.”  
  
“Me either,” she panted before feathering his cheeks in innocent kisses. “I can’t understand this.”  
  
“Huh,” he grunted, shifting her against the wall. “Maybe it ain’t for understandin’.”  
  
Ororo chuckled, the sound caught on Logan’s lips when he captured her mouth once more. She smiled into his kiss, rewarded to find him doing the same. She threaded her hands into his hair, letting Logan’ mouth and body continue to fan those fires he kept breaking out all over. Ororo wanted to be dominated and possessed in a way she never felt before. Though frightened by the intensity of emotions, she found herself unable to shy away from them.  
  
“Well,” came an unfamiliar voice from somewhere in the room. “If you two are finished, you might want to come downstairs.”  
  
Ororo and Logan did not break apart immediately. In fact, it was several seconds before either of them even attempted to halt their fervent kiss. When, at last, they tore their mouths apart, Ororo glanced over to find Scott standing in the hall.  
  
“Is something wrong?”  
  
Scott nodded sharply. Ororo did not have to be a telepath to spot the anger on his face. The set to his jaw and tic in his cheek spoke volumes. She refused to apologetically smile or in any way pretend to be embarrassed. She just had the best kiss of her adult life and was not prepared to even feign shame.  
  
“Kelly’s dying.”  
  
Logan dropped Ororo unceremoniously and had she cared at that moment, she might have been irritated. Instead, she silently rushed from the room, leaving Scott and Logan to trail along behind her.


	6. I Can Hear Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Scott have a minor showdown while Ororo reveals her fears to Jean. After the Professor is attacked, Logan and Ororo move closer as Jean uses Cerebro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT ALERT!
> 
> *giggles and runs away*

Logan could scarcely soothe his somehow frantic heartbeat. Since the moment he had Storm in his arms, her warm body pressed close to his, the entire world was a funnel. He was lost in the cyclone, hearing only her voice, smelling only her scent, feeling only her sweet, smoky kisses. He had to force himself to concentrate, for every idle moment his thoughts went back to the odd encounter in the atrium.  
  
There was something there, no denying it now. He knew better than to give in to the urge. Some things just pulled a man in, like gravity, and Storm seemed to be one of them. It would have been better to just never know, to never understand how amazing it could be to hold her in his arms. She fit like a second skin, made Logan want to drown in her until all worry, fear, and doubt was cast to the winds she commanded.  
  
The woman was definitely going to be trouble.  
  
Logan sat on the edge of the Professor’s desk, trying to maintain the appearance of brooding anger. How well it was working, he couldn’t really tell. Everyone was preoccupied with what Xavier had seen inside of Senator Kelly’s head. Whatever was happening to that man was apparently cause for concern.  
  
Jeannie went on about how the hate-mongering politician had suddenly become a mutant. It was now certain that Magneto planned to do this to several people, if not the entire world. If he did that, the balance of power would shift, yes, but as red-haired doctor went on it would cause uncounted deaths.  
  
“His body is rejecting the mutation.” Jean finished, drawing Logan’s thoughts back to the matter at hand.  
  
“Is there anything you can do?” Cyclops questioned from the other side of the room. The man had said nothing to Logan at all, even after they observed the Senator’s strange condition.  
  
“I don’t know how he did it, much less how to reverse the effect,” Jean shook her head.  
  
“The machine Magneto used is important,” Xavier chimed in.  
  
“What does he want with Rogue?” Logan interrupted. “How does she figure into this?”  
  
Silence resonated through the room while the assembled mutants mulled over this. Logan looked at each of them in turn, wondering what they were thinking. What was Storm doing while she kept watch over Kelly?  
  
“Wait a second. You said,” Scott answered suddenly. “That when Magneto used the machine, it weakened him.”  
  
Xavier nodded, his eyes suddenly far off. Logan thought the man was going back through the memory lifted from Kelly’s fractured mind. The air charged around him, like the still before the storm. Logan’s hands clenched with anticipation.  
  
“In fact, it almost killed him.”  
  
Right then, it clicked in all four minds. “He’s going to transfer his power, use Rogue to power the machine.”  
  
Logan was on his feet immediately. “We have to find them. He’ll kill her!”  
  
At that moment, the office door flew open. So preoccupied with thoughts of Magneto and Rogue was Logan that he had not even heard the running footsteps nor caught the scent of fear coming from the woman rushing through the halls. He jumped back slightly, fists clenched as he fought to keep his claws safely housed within his flesh.  
  
Storm appeared in the doorway, her eyes wild and hair tousled. Blood was staining the bandages on her throat, but she met each set of eyes with the dark gaze that pierced emotional armor without resistance.  
  
The shock in those chocolate eyes made Logan yearn to hold her close. So powerful was the urge to pull her into his arms that Logan had to physically halt himself before he moved toward the goddess standing so unsure in the doorway.  
  
“Senator Kelly is dead,” Storm announced. Logan’s gaze locked with hers, unwilling to relinquish once the hold was solidified.  
  
“We’re running out of time.” Xavier said quickly. “Scott, get Logan a uniform.”  
  
“Professor…” Cyclops tried to intervene.  
  
“Just do it,” Storm cut in. “Do we know where Magneto is taking her?”  
  
For a moment, there was silence. Logan slid his gaze toward Cyclops, whom stared from Xavier to Storm. Neither seemed willing to bend even a little and Jean had a barely perceptible smile on her pretty face.  
  
“I must consult Cerebro.”  
  
Without even waiting for the others, Storm turned on her heel and left the room. Logan moved to follow, but Jean was there. Her tiny hand went to Logan’s arm, restraining him by request instead of command.  
  
“Let me.”  
  
Seeing the concern in brilliant green eyes, Logan nodded. The red haired telepath left the room quickly, followed by Xavier. Cyclops came toward the feral Wolverine, standing toe to toe with him. He’d been expecting this, though whether Scott’s little “chat” would be about the upcoming battle or the frantic lip-lock with Storm, Logan wasn’t sure.  
  
“You’ll have to use one of my uniforms.” Cyclops said, his tone tight and voice hard-edged. “Unless you’d rather use Jean’s?”  
  
Logan gave the boy a smirk. “Think she’d let me?”  
  
Scott’s scowl deepened. “Out there I’m the team leader. If you can’t follow my orders, I don’t give a shit what Charles said, you’ll stay here.”  
  
Rage bit at the surface, churned by concern over Rogue and the call of battle singing in his veins. Voice dropping to a low, testing growl, Logan took a step closer until he and Cyclops were nose-to-nose.  
  
“I don’t take orders, boy.”  
  
“Don’t test me, Wolverine,” Cyclops said with more backbone than Logan had previously given him credit for. “This is my team, my  _family_. You screw up and get one of them killed, I’ll peel your skin right off that metal skeleton. Are we clear?”  
  
Respect grew and Logan was powerless to stop it. He could sense the love of his pack, the fierce protectiveness. Unable to control the baser instinct, Logan backed down. His claws stopped biting at the inner flesh of his hands, lulled into a dormant state by the sudden appearance of the true Alpha Male of this pack.  
  
“Crystal.”  
  
Scott’s shock registered on his face for only a moment, mingled with confusion. “Lets go.”  
  
~**~  
  
Storm had gone into her room, lost in thoughts of seeing Kelly’s body shift and phase until it broke into a million particles of water and evaporated. The shocking sight had frightened her, though why, she wasn’t sure. Seeing an entire human being broken down into atoms and scattered just tore her heart.  
  
Magneto had the power to do that, though to whom she could only guess. Charles would find him and the X-Men would have their mettle tested on the first, real battlefield in Magneto’s war. For years Xavier’s students had trained for this, but part of Storm had always carried the hope that it would never come to war.  
  
As she put fresh bandages on the wounds left by Sabertooth, Storm glanced at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She had to be strong now, trust in what she’d been taught over the last long years. Who else could fight this battle? Humans were such a fragile species and only mutants could fight on the scale that Magneto wished for.  
  
Someone had to stand up for all of humanity and Xavier’s X-Men were ready to take on that mantle.  
  
And now, faced with the start to what she knew would be a long, unending war, could she not stop thinking about the damned Wolverine?  
  
“He’s getting to you.”  
  
Ororo turned on the balls of her feet, startled by Jean’s voice breaking the tense silence. She glared somewhat playfully at her friend, securing the bandage with one last strip of medical tape.  
  
“You’ve been poking around again.”  
  
“Can’t help it,” Jean replied with a knowing smile. “Your head is a jumble. Our link makes it hard to concentrate when you’re obsessing.”  
  
“I am not obsessing,” Ororo grumbled, scooping up her soiled bandages and tossing them into her bathroom’s wastebasket. “I’m just…thinking.”  
  
“Loudly,” Jean teased, coming fully into the room and closing the door behind her. “Must have been some kiss.”  
  
Knowing that her friend could be like a pitbull with a rather juicy bone, Ororo relented. She leaned against the doorjamb of her bathroom, crossed her arms beneath her breasts and sighed. Closing her eyes, she recalled the feel of strong, utterly masculine arms around her. The taste of him lingered on her lips, the scent of sweat and spice permeated her senses until she was filled with Logan.  
  
“It was,” Ororo admitted. “Jean, what am I going to do?”  
  
Scott’s warning was still fresh in Ororo’s mind. Logan was not a man that would stay with her. Though nothing solid bloomed between them yet, Ororo could imagine something would. When it did, how could she live with the fear that he would simply drift into the night again?  
  
Ororo wanted to go with her instinct, just dive into whatever the hell Logan was doing to her. But the fear of being hurt stopped her short. She didn’t want to be hurt, nor hurt him in return. There should be nothing between them, for their own good.  
  
And yet…  
  
“There isn’t anything you can do.” Jean replied softly. “If you can’t just evade it, maybe you aren’t supposed to.”  
  
“Jean,” Ororo sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “I don’t have any room for this in my life. With Magneto and the fight and the children.”  
  
“So?” Jean tilted her head at her dearest friend. “Ororo, why are you so afraid of this?”  
  
 _He’ll hurt me_. Ororo thought, aware that her friend would pick up the thought.  
  
Jean came closer, hugging Ororo tightly. _He may not. You are very similar creatures._  
  
Before Ororo could reply, pain whipped through her head. A far-off scream resonated. She grasped her temples, crying out in mental agony. Never had something caused such pain. It felt as though her heart were being yanked from her chest.  
  
 _HELP ME_.  
  
“Charles!”  
  
~**~  
  
Logan wandered the halls after all was quiet. Restlessness tore at his insides, even in the quiet calm of a mansion fast asleep. Somewhere out there Rogue was being held captive, alone and afraid.  
  
But here at the mansion, things had spiraled quickly out of control. He’d been with Cyclops when it happened. They were searching for a uniform to fit Logan when the younger man screamed, grasping his head as though something were burning him from within.  
  
Logan shouted for Jean, but heard children running in fear upstairs. It took a moment for Scott to regain his wits and when he did, all he could say was the word “Charles” over and over again.  
  
Jean and Ororo met them in the hall to Cerebro, where Scott had run – full tilt- after recovering from his odd mental attack. All three were in a state of panic, the scent of fear nearly bowled Logan over, even as Storm stumbled and wound up in his arms.  
  
When Cerebro’s doors opened, Logan understood. Their mentor lay on the floor unresponsive and pale. He and Scott carried the frighteningly limp mutant into the med-lab, where Jean immediately began working on their leader.  
  
Still, hours later, they had no answers. Jean and Scott had things in hand and they told Storm and Wolverine - on no uncertain terms - that they were merely underfoot. Nothing could be done to find Rogue until they knew what had happened to Charles.  
  
They could not even locate the madman until he awoke, for they had no one to work with Cerebro.  
  
Storm had gone to her room, or so Logan assumed. He was left to his own devices. Thoughts of Rogue, Magneto, Xavier and his dream plagued the mutant. Jean had suggested he get some sleep, but she obviously had no idea how impossible that would be.  
  
He had seen the children ready for bed. Battle from the train station, from the impending fight with Magneto sang in his blood. The restlessness would give him no peace until he did something with it. Of course the haunting feel of Ororo’s mouth against him, her body warm and willing against his did nothing to help settle his mind and body.  
  
Tonight he could do nothing about Rogue, Magneto, or Xavier, but perhaps something could be done about Storm.  
  
A smile crossed his features when Logan realized that his train of thought had already brought him to Storm’s bedroom door. He could hear her inside, rustling around. Her scent came to him, filled with the aromas of earth and rain. It made his nostrils flare, eager to take in more.  
  
Logan stood in the hall for several moments, his hand half-raised to knock. He shouldn’t be here, bothering her this late. But the dim glow of light from beneath the door told him the sleep that eluded him had not yet found her. Footsteps told him she might be pacing, perhaps worrying over her mentor as he had, or thinking of their stolen moment in the atrium.  
  
Forcing himself to face the problem head on, Logan knocked softly. His metallic skeleton gave a muted ring against the solid oak of her door and he called out quietly, clearing his throat.  
  
“Storm?”  
  
“Logan?” came the reply in her clear, throbbing voice. She paused, Logan heard the distinct sound of a throat clearing. “Come in.”  
  
The palm that twisted the brass knob was slightly damp with sweat and Logan’s gut roiled with a hint of nerves. Why the hell was he nervous? She was just one woman! There would be no danger in the solitude of her bedroom.  
  
At least…no physical danger.  
  
Storm stood in her bedroom, changed out of her slinky garments and into what looked like well-worn sweats and a thin camisole. Logan immediately noticed the swells of her caramel breasts against the flimsy white material, darkened peaks winking playfully from beneath.  
  
All her long hair spilled over those smoky shoulders, free as any wild thing. The curtains pulled back to reveal a wide, open window leading to the large balcony danced in a cool autumn breeze. Logan caught the scent of goddess on that sweet wind, and his hands clenched with the desire already pooling in his belly.  
  
For several long moments, they said nothing. Even the door closing behind him with a soft click did not jar either mutant. Logan kept his distance, no matter how he wanted to drag her into his arms, bring sensual sounds of encouragement from that beautiful body.  
  
“You shouldn’t be here.” Ororo said quietly.  
  
Logan could not fault her logic. He shouldn’t be here, not when they had a million other things to be worrying about. They should both be in the lower levels, waiting for the Professor to wake from the sudden and devastating coma.  
  
“I know,” he replied gruffly. “But I can’t seem to stay away.”  
  
“I know the feeling.” Storm answered, looking away as a small smile crossed that luscious mouth.  
  
They stood again in silence as Ororo gazed at the moon and Logan stared at her. He could smell the want on her, see it in the tension of her body. Oh, she was trying to fight it. But the attraction they’d both become aware of within moments of meeting swelled and grew between them.  
  
“Come closer.”  
  
At Ororo’s gentle order, Logan exhaled the breath he was not aware of holding. He took slow, measured steps through the quiet of her bedroom. Ororo did not instinctively step back, as he thought she might. If she had, their problem might have solved itself. Logan would never take a woman who feared him in the slightest. There was no pleasure in that for him.  
  
But Ororo moved not an inch, even as Logan came close enough to feel the heat from her body. There existed in her a kind of wildness, he could see it in the dark pools of her ebony eyes. Here the irises reflected light from the high moon above, but they whispered to Logan of hidden secrets and dark delights.  
  
One caramel hand reached up and Logan could not keep his eyes open. Her fingers danced over the flesh of his cheek, tracing the line of stubble along it until she could reach his lips. Her skin practically hummed against his, capturing every attention and focusing it on the very spot where their skin met.  
  
He could not breathe as Ororo leaned ever closer. Her slender hand went to the back of his neck, tugging him until their lips met. Logan’s hands regained the ability to move and they were suddenly buried in the silken locks of her fragrant hair.  
  
Unlike the kiss in the atrium, this was a slow exploration. Logan’s knees weakened as her mouth opened, a silent offering to take what he would without fear or restraint.  
  
One of his arms fell to her waist, lifting the slight goddess into his arms even further. She trusted him, Logan noticed, to support her weight and his. There was not even a check of balance from her as Ororo gave herself over to him without a thought.  
  
He took a step back, sharp eyes having taken a cursory glance of her room. Memory told him where to step until his knees hit the edge of her pale blue bed. Logan let himself fall, turning at the last second with preternatural reflexes. He cradled the divine creature in his arms as though she were made of precious crystal, their mouths still fused together.  
  
Passion licked up from Ororo as her tongue suddenly swept into his mouth, giving his dominant side an inviting stroke. Logan nearly smiled into her mouth. The minx knew exactly what she was doing, though how or why she had such intimate knowledge were questions for later. Much later.  
  
Clothing seemed to melt away. Lost in Ororo’s teasing kiss, Logan could scarcely recall how they went from near-innocent kissing to having hot, bare flesh pressed together intimately. His mouth moved from hers as her chest was suddenly freed from the flimsy camisole she’d been wearing.  
  
He trailed hot, wet kisses down the smooth column of her dark throat, eliciting a groan of encouragement from his lover. Logan licked himself a path from the hollow of her throat to the soft peak of one cocoa-tipped breast. Ororo rose up under him, offering, willing, begging him to take.  
  
Logan lavished the hardened peak with attention, drawing it into his mouth as Ororo gasped and sighed her pleasure. Her hands were not idle, but smoothed over every bit of Logan’s flesh that she could reach, even as he switched his attentions from one perfumed breast to the other.  
  
Ororo whispered his name and Logan raised his eyes to meet her gaze over the swells of her flesh. She watched him with passion, desire radiating from those expressive eyes. Encouraged by that hot gaze, Logan continued to make his way down her body. He pressed wet, opened mouthed kisses along the ripple of her ribcage, down the flat plane of her belly. His hands spanned the width of her generous hips, holding her still as Ororo shifted and flinched beneath him.  
  
In what he could remember of his life, Logan had never had a woman like this. Unusually his romps were few and far between, confined to drunken tumbles when the need to be touched won over his paranoia and gruffness. But here and now, stone-cold sober was a woman willing to give in to his desires, to take as much as he could give.  
  
When Logan reached the edge of the snowy curls between Ororo’s legs, she opened willingly. He closed his eyes when Ororo fell back, her hips arching impatiently. Logan pressed a chaste kiss to her weeping sex, then dragged his tongue the length of her sweet folds.  
  
“Logan,” Ororo whispered his name, her throaty voice sending a shiver down his spine.  
  
The taste of Ororo melted on Logan’s tongue, something he would never forget. Sweet, tangy, he’d never had anything so wonderful. Ororo’s gasps became faster as her heart rate soared. She wiggled under him, one hand reaching down to entwine with his as his lips and tongue worked over her heated core. The intimate gesture brought Logan’s desire from insistent to primal. God, he needed to be inside this woman, to feel her around him until they lost themselves to bliss.  
  
Upping the pace of his tongue, Logan flicked the tip over the swollen bud at the top of her sex until she shattered. Ororo’s high-pitched cry of release made his erection throb and he slithered up the length of her body even before the tremors of her orgasm had faded.  
  
Ororo leaned up, wrapping slender arms around Logan’s sweat-slicked shoulders. Her mouth fused with his once more as he positioned himself between her slim thighs. The tip of his cock brushed her folds, making them both groan in anticipation.  
  
Logan kept his lips on hers, his tongue stabbing into the sweet cavern of her mouth. He reached between them, taking his cock in hand to guide it toward Ororo’s wet body. He slid in almost effortlessly, forcing Logan to release his hold on her mouth as her receptive body pulled him deeper and deeper still.  
  
Unable to brace himself, unwilling to break full-body contact, Logan wrapped his arms under Ororo as he buried himself to the hilt inside of her. He felt her legs shift until they were wrapped about his hips, giving him more room to move inside of her.  
  
Logan’s eyes met Ororo’s, the only light coming from the moon outside. Shaking with restraint, he pressed his forehead against hers, pulling his hips back until he could slid inside of her once more. Ororo gasped soundlessly, her head falling back. Logan buried his face in the juncture of neck and shoulder, inhaling her scent as he drove them both toward bliss.  
  
~**~  
  
Jean leaned over the panel inside of Cerebro, checking for any fault that might have caused Charles’ sudden coma. She had already checked most of the other panels, having left Charles in the capable hands of Scott. Should anything happen, he could contact her in moments due to the mental link they all shared.  
  
The terror they had all felt when Charles called for help still hurt Jean’s heart. She had always known they looked to him for safety and aid when they needed it most, but for some reason she had never thought that they were Charles’ safety as well. In that moment, however, when he felt his own powerful mind turn against him, he’d called for his “children”.  
  
Humbled by that, Jean vowed that she would save him, even if it meant testing the limits of her mental gifts. Charles had gone away inside, retreating from whatever had pained him until he was lost in his own consciousness. Jean might have brought him back, if only she could be sure her barging into his mind would cause no further harm.  
  
She’d worked on him through the night and spent the bulk of her day working on the supercomputer Charles and Magneto once built together. As she picked through the inner workings of the computer, Jean wondered where Ororo had been all day.  
  
“What the hell?” Jean spied a dark vial plugged into Cerebro’s systems and frowned. It looked as though Cerebro had been sabotaged after all, something Scott had said the moment they realized Charles’ own mind had turned on him.  
  
Jean disconnected the vial, watching as Cerebro flushed the murky poison from its own systems. She closed it back up, confident that once they woke the Professor it would be in working order. If she could just find a way to draw him back out, to assure him it was safe…  
  
She stopped before leaving the massive computer room, turning over her shoulder to stare at the control panel. Charles always said she would use it herself one day, once she was confident enough in her own abilities. But Cerebro’s power frightened her, just as her powers once terrified the mutant.  
  
Something told her, though, that Rogue did not have time for them to await Charles’ recovery. The girl was alone and likely frightened, with no idea why someone was taking her prisoner. She had, after all, done nothing wrong.  
  
Jean strode back over to the console, kneeling where Charles’ chair was usually placed. Glancing over her shoulder to ensure neither Scott nor Ororo was going to stop her, Jean lifted the thin head piece that acted as a conduit for telepathy and put it over her head.  
  
Cerebro grabbed hold instantly. Jean heard a far-off cry of her name, but was lost in the powerful sensation of Cerebro hijacking her mental abilities. It took several moments for her to focus, reaching out with all her power to locate the young girl spirited away by a malevolent madman.  
  
“Rogue,” Jean whispered to herself, the sound echoing in the caverns of her mind. “Where are you?”  
  
She saw the girl then, saw the image of Lady Liberty behind her. Jean gasped with realization as Cerebro let her go, vacating her mind so swiftly Jean collapsed onto the cool steel floor.  
  
Scott was there then, lifting her, holding her and Jean felt a warm wave of triumph. She’d done it. She’d used Cerebro and she’d located Rogue.  
  
In a pained whisper, Jean managed to tell her fiancé. “I know where Magneto’s going.”


	7. Misconceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the X-Men prepare for battle, Wolverine oversteps with Storm.

“Jean?”  
  
Ororo sat up in her bed, heedless to the grumpy grunt that came from the man beside her. She had felt it, or so she thought. A soft call of her name, a familiar voice that cried out for help.  
  
It was gone, though. A momentary flash of red hair and soft, green eyes threw Ororo’s legs off of the side of the bed. Logan might have been awake, but he was shoved to the back of her mind.  
  
She had to get to Jean.  
  
“’Ro?”  
  
Looking over her shoulder, the mutant woman was momentarily distracted. Logan stared up at her, upon his face there was the most placid, sated look she had ever seen. He reached out for her, as though the impulse could not, would not, be denied.  
  
As rough fingertips ghosted over the bare flesh of her shoulder, Ororo couldn’t help it. She gave him a small smile of her own, shifting until she could lie beside him.  
  
“Hello.”  
  
“Where you goin’?” Logan asked, his eyebrow arching at her state of undress.  
  
“Something’s happened.” Storm said simply. “Jean called for me.”  
  
Confusion crossed that beautiful face. It startled her, thinking that this gruff, animalistic man was beautiful. He was so beautiful. In Logan was the call of the wild, the need to run into the untamed wilderness wrapped up in flannel.  
  
Well, right now it was wrapped in nothing but smooth skin and taut muscle.  
  
She could feel him, even now. His touch had the uncommon ability to soothe, to inflame, to  _ache_  in one motion. Ororo had never taken a lover quite like Logan.  
  
“Called you?” Logan asked quietly. “I didn’t hear anything.”  
  
Unable to help herself, Ororo raised their joined hands. She had not even been aware of threading their fingers together intimately. With his forefinger, she tapped at her brow.  
  
“She called here.” Storm replied with amusement twisting her lips. “If you can hear that, you are more gifted than we initially thought.”  
  
Logan sat up fully, bringing Ororo with him. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something. His dark eyes were serious, regarding her with a mixture of confusion and simple tenderness that took her breath away.  
  
From the moment she’d clapped eyes on him in the Professor’s office, she knew he would be trouble. When he’d come into her room a few hours before, Ororo had known there was no going back. In him, she found passion, desire, and a fervent need to protect. Whatever was happening between them could not be confined to simple lust.  
  
Before Logan could speak, however, her bedroom door opened.  
  
Ororo immediately grasped the sheet, covering her nudity and Logan’s. As she turned toward the door, she was aware of a metallic sound and the presence of lethal adamantium at her back. Without meaning to, Storm shushed Logan gently. He obviously did not like surprises. Ororo’s ‘open door’ policy was likely to need an amendment.  
  
Scott, for his part, was doing a particularly excellent impression of a guppy.  
  
“What is it?” Storm asked, not bothering to address her rendezvous with Logan. “Is Jean alright?”  
  
Cyclops, for once, seemed without words. Ororo wrapped the sheet more fully around her body, sliding from the bed to face her friend. Scott’s eyes met hers through a ruby-red haze, the twist of his mouth disapproving. Ororo reached out to touch his hand, surprised to hear a low, predatory growl from the man behind her. Her longtime friend looked past her, to the man currently warning him away. His mouth presented a firm, angry line.  
  
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the heavens, Ororo released Scott’s hand. Logan immediately stopped growling.  
  
“Scott.” The woman said sharply, drawing his attention back to her. “Where. Is. Jean.”  
  
“She used Cerebro.” Scott’s voice was flat, almost unfriendly. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten.”  
  
Hearing that Logan was already moving, apparently unabashed about his nakedness, Ororo nodded.  
  
“We’ll be along shortly.”  
  
“War Room,” the X-Men leader said sharply. “I’ve got Pete handling the kids.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Without another word, Scott turned on his heel. Ororo quietly closed the door behind him, staring at the door for a long, tense moment. Scott had never been so angry with her, not in all her time as his companion. She knew he wasn’t Logan’s biggest fan, but surely that did not mean she was…  
  
“Hey.” It was Logan’s soft tone and entreating hand to her back that turned her. “Come back.”  
  
Storm followed the invitation of his embrace, looking up at the man whom had turned her family on its head and wormed his way into her heart.  
  
“Come back, darlin’.” Logan repeated, his rough hand cupping her cheek. “He doesn’t like me. That’s all. It ain’t you.”  
  
How did he…  
  
“It’s all over your face, ‘Ro.” The man insisted at the questioning raise of her brow. “Just get dressed. We have work to do.”  
  
He turned away, dressing quickly. Ororo stretched her mind out, finding Jean.  
  
_Don’t worry. I’ll simmer him down._  
  
Jean.  
  
Just hurry. I know where Magneto is.  
  
***  
  
  
The tension was thick enough to walk on.   
  
As Wolverine and the X-Men filed into the War Room, Jean kept her face purposefully passive. Scott had already raged at her when he returned from locating Storm, only to find their friend was occupying their new ally. Jean soothed her fiancé as well as she could, reminding him that Storm was a grown woman.  
  
He had told her on no uncertain terms that he wasn’t happy. Jean responded that he was being infantile. The entire thing was hilarious to the red-haired telepath, but she chose to keep herself out of the situation.  
  
Judging from the way Ororo was projecting feelings of easy contentment, Jean was going to come down firmly on her best friend’s side. Scott could be overprotective to a fault, it was in his nature. His distrust of the Wolverine was coloring all of his vision.   
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
Ororo moved immediately to Jean, leaving Wolverine to stare at the War Room in awe. She knew it was a lot to take in with its advanced technology and sterile steel walls. He offered her a brief nod before moving to stand opposite Cyclops.  
  
“I’m fine.” Jean assured her friend. “Rogue wasn’t hard to find, actually.”  
  
“We have a plan.” Scott broke in quickly. He manipulated the controls on their holo-map located at the center of the room, bringing up the image of Liberty Island.  
  
Storm moved away, though she chose not to immediately rush to Logan’s side. Jean was grateful for that small amount of decorum, Scott was already inventing swear words in their private mental link.  
  
“Any change in the Professor?”  
  
Logan’s quiet question startled them all. Scott looked up, the hard edge to his jaw softening. No matter the drama, Jean thought, Scott respected anyone who respected their leader. Logan asking after Charles had an olive branch, even if he didn’t know it.  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
The two men shared a curt nod over the table before Scott began.  
  
“Magneto is here. Liberty Island. Now, presumably, his objective is to mutate the world leaders at the UN Summit on Ellis Island.”  
  
Storm crossed her arms over her chest, staring at the metallic images of the New York coastline seriously.  
  
“He doesn’t know his machine kills,” the African woman chimed in seriously. “And judging from what the Professor saw, if he gave Rogue enough power-“  
  
Jean cut her off, adding effortlessly to the duet of familiar voices. “He could wipe out everyone in New York City.”  
  
There was a heavy silence at that. The quartet of mutants stood around the table, looking at the small holographic image that represented a place on the verge of war. Jean felt the niggling of fear in her heart, wondering if they were ready for this.  
  
Storm and Cyclops and Jean had taken a few little missions, mostly finding wayward children to add to Charles’ ever-expanding flock. This was no simple job, though. At this point, their friend was turned enemy and their mettle in battle would be tested.  
  
Had Charles prepared them for this?   
  
It didn’t seem fair that he would miss this. Oh, Jean knew he would find his way back. Would they be able to tell him good news or bad? What if something happened to one of them in battle? Jean worried her bottom lip between her teeth, a habit that she’d not quite broken as she reached adulthood.  
  
“We can insert here at the George Washington Bridge, come around the bank, just off of Manhattan. We land on the far side of Liberty Island, here.”  
  
With careful motions on the holo-map controls, Scott shared his plan of attack with the group. Jean had to admit, her fiancé had a flair for strategy. From the grudging look on Logan’s face – not to mention the pride on Ororo’s – her companions agreed.   
  
“What about harbor patrol?” Wolverine chimed in, though without the bite in his tone that would belie one-upmanship. “Radar?”  
  
_Well,_ Jean thought, _the feral Wolverine is meticulous_. She hadn’t expected that. She thought of him as a creature of instinct, of gut feelings. From the look in his eyes, though, Logan was calculating, assessing, gauging.  
  
Scott’s smile was one of real amusement.  
  
“If they have anything that can pick up our jet, they deserve to catch us.”  
  
“When do we leave?” Storm cut in smoothly.  
  
“Five minutes.” Cyclops replied with command in his tone that sent pleasant little shivers up Jean’s spine. It was very sexy when he did things like that.  
  
“Suit up.”  
  
***  
  
  
As he moved out of the changing room, Logan did a habitual sniff of the surrounding area. Jean had already gone on to the jet that was somewhere below the mansion. Logan was starting to reassess how big the damn place was.   
  
They hid a jet under the house? Seriously?  
  
His sensitive nose brought him that familiar scent of flowers and damp earth. With a smirk meant only for himself, Logan realized the flavor that reminded him of their resident weather goddess was clinging to his skin.  
  
Even a quick post-sex shower hadn’t removed the stamp placed on him by that woman.  
  
Did he want it to?  
  
Thinking back to their stolen hours in her room, Logan found himself distracted. There was something about Ororo Munroe that was just damn distracting. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, even in the War Room discussing a plan of attack.  
  
The upcoming battle gave him a secondary pause. Ororo and Jean had both admitted they were not seasoned warriors. In fact, if he recalled the conversation with Jean correctly – which was hard since he’d been staring at Storm arguing with Cyclops at the time – they hadn’t done anything rougher than battling Sabertooth to get Logan and Rogue out of Canada.  
  
Did they know what they were walking into? Death. Destruction. The gritty underbelly of humanity. The very idea that Storm would be in there, wading in blood with a battle cry on her lips was amusing on the one hand.  
  
On the other, he didn’t want to see blood on her hands. She was too pure, too  _good_  for that. Logan couldn't even see how he dared touch something so unattainable. He had touched her, and she touched him, in ways he wasn't even ready to understand.  
  
If he spent any more time dwelling on it, he was likely to end up in a heap of trouble he didn't need.  
  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Turning, Logan let himself smile. They were alone, without Jean’s amused green gaze and the ruby anger of Scott. He reached for her out of reflex, wanting contact and afraid of why he needed it. Without thinking, he tightened his grip on her hand, hating the idea of her going off to battle like a good soldier.  
  
She wasn't a soldier. She was a goddess.  
  
“You should stay here.”  
  
Ororo’s dark brow creased with confusion. Logan hadn’t even meant to say it, but now that the words were in the ether, he couldn’t take them back. Hell, Logan wasn’t even sure he wanted to.  
  
“Logan, you can’t do this alone.”  
  
Unable to help it, Logan smirked.  
  
“You’re starting to repeat yourself, darlin’.”  
  
Storm tried to hide her smile under a stern gaze. It collapsed about three seconds into the attempt, though, leaving her to chuckle softly at Logan’s expense.  
  
“We’ll be fine.” Storm insisted. “You’re with us, right?”  
  
“That’s not the point.” Logan continued, resisting her charms as well as he could. “’Ro, this is gonna get heavy fast. Magneto isn’t an easy mark. You should stay here. It’s safer here, with the Professor.”  
  
A beat after the words left his mouth, Logan knew he’d overstepped. Ororo’s eyes rimmed with frost, giving the mutant a fierce, wild look. The determination that crossed her beautiful features was something he really didn’t think he wanted pointed in his general direction.  
  
Ozone tinged the air, bringing the fine hairs on the back of his neck to full attention. Logan remembered her powers in that moment and dimly wondered if adamantium conducted lightning.  
  
“I am a member of this team and I am increasingly annoyed with the males in this house thinking they can tell me what to do.”  
  
“Storm…” He tried to interject and backpedal before he got a lightning bolt shoved up his ass. “I didn’t mean it like that.”  
  
“No?” Her tone was as icy as the ring around her irises. “Do you think that sleeping with me indicates some sort of power over me?”  
  
“Hey,” he defended, unsure of how they’d got to this particular place so quickly. “That’s below the belt.”  
  
“So is telling me to sit home and mind the children because of my sex chromosome.”   
  
“That’s not what I meant.” His voice rose with irritation. “You haven’t seen this before, you haven’t seen what people are capable of.”  
  
The woman before him took a step back, her gaze returning to the warm, chocolate hue he was used to. There was sadness there, and a hint of surprise. Logan felt her take an invisible step back from him, giving the Wolverine the urge to reach out and bring her back.  
  
“I forgot.” Storm said, almost to herself. “You don’t know me.”  
  
“Ororo.”  
  
But she turned on her heel, moving toward the automatic doors that presumably lead to the jet. Logan ran a frustrated hand through his hair, turning away from Storm’s retreating back.  
  
Was she wrong? No, not really. They had known one another a whooping three damn days. In that time, they explored attraction and played with lust, but did he _know_ her?  
  
“She’s right.”  
  
Looking up, Wolverine snarled. Cyclops had appeared at some point, sneaking into a situation that had nothing to do with him. The X-Men’s leader was in his uniform, his half-covered face a mask of barely-concealed irritation.  
  
“You don’t know shit.”  
  
“You don’t know her.” Scott shot back. “And you won’t. You’ll be gone before her sheets are cold.”  
  
“Watch your mouth.”  
  
“She’s more than you can handle, Wolverine.” The Boy Scout said without hesitation. “So follow me to the jet, do your job, and let her go.”  
  
As the other man passed, Logan released the growl that had been building in his throat since he laid eyes on Cyclops. Scott didn’t even offer a glance in Wolverine’s direction before he followed Storm toward the waiting jet.   
  
Logan stood in the center of the room, wondering if he should even bother following them.  
  
_Rogue._  
  
The thought of her name, the image of her crying face burrowed into his shoulder was enough. Logan steeled himself and moved through the automatic doors.  
  
His problem with Storm would have to wait.


	8. Liberty Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-Men attack Liberty Island.

The interior of the jet was tense enough without the ire rising in Ororo. She should stow it away until the end of the mission, not think about anything to do with Logan while they rushed out to save the world. She knew that was the right thing to do.  
  
It simply proved impossible.  
  
As she took her seat beside Cyclops, Storm offered no words. Their argument before meeting in the War Room was heated, more heated than she could remember any of them being. Though she hated the discomfort between the two of them, especially since Jean could peer into her head, Storm merely closed herself off. She refused to speak for several minutes, her back tensing when Wolverine’s heavy footfalls brought him into the jet.  
  
“Hatch closing.”  
  
Reaching up, Storm flipped the switch that would close the jet, the hydraulics hissing as the hatch slid into place.  
  
“Preflight check complete.”  
  
Scott’s voice was as hard as agates, less than friendly. Ororo ignored it. She could hear Jean telling Logan how to buckle into the seat, even as Scott lifted the jet into the air. Ororo wondered if the children were watching from their windows as the basketball court retracted to release the heavy, specialized plane.  
  
“You actually go outside in these things?” Logan’s voice was derisive. Ororo fought the urge to roll her eyes.  
  
“What would you prefer?” Scott asked sarcastically. “Yellow spandex?”  
  
Jean’s giggle was  _almost_  lost to the roar of the jet engine, but not quite.  
  
The metallic ringing that told her Logan had unsheathed his most lethal weapons put her back up again, taking away the humor at Scott’s response and Jean’s laughter.  
  
He wanted her to sit at home like a good girl, did he? Logan had no idea what he was talking about. She had watched her family die, holding her mother’s hand as the last breaths were pulled from her body. N’Dare had called her ‘Little One’, even as she lay dying.   Ororo remained under that accursed building for two days before someone found her.  
  
After that, her trials had only begun. Ororo fought off the men at the orphanage until she ran away, turning to the streets when she had no other way to feed herself. She learned how to use knives, how to steal...Faurok made sure she could take care of herself. Ororo had lived for nearly ten years on the streets of Cairo, getting by on skills as a pickpocket.  
  
When her mutation took her, though, Ororo ran. She ended up on the plains of Tanzania, drawn there by the powerful storms. When she was in her teens, Windrider was born, leaving the teenage girl to be worshipped by the tribe that took her in. Ororo was treated as a goddess, a leader for the plains people she loved.  
  
It wasn’t until Charles Xavier turned up that she realized she was missing out on something.  
  
Charles gave her a family, a home, released into the world an educated woman with the determination of a warrior. She bristled at the idea of being kept home, safe and secure while the big strong men went out to save the world.  
  
Logan did not know her. He couldn’t know how much that insinuation she couldn’t care for herself and her family hurt her.  
  
Reigning in her emotions, Storm did not acknowledge Cyclops as he asked her for a little cover. She filtered her doubt and chagrin into a thick, heavy fog. Her power reached out over the bay, cloaking their approach. Several cracks of thunder, heralding an oncoming storm covered the howling approach of their plane.  
  
Scott’s landings were still heavy handed and the quartet of mutants thunked into the bay with the grace of a drunk rhinoceros.   
  
Arching a brow at her friend, Storm was rewarded by a slight blush to Scott’s cheeks and a clearing of his throat.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
Logan sniffed behind her, the sound slightly derisive. “You call that a landing?”  
  
Jean and Ororo shared a look over her shoulder, one that betrayed limitless patience and amusement. Storm finished readying the jet to take off again, then unbuckled her belt to follow her teammates out of the jet. She did not spare Logan a look, even as he reached out to stop her. Feeling petty, she pulled her hand away, giving him a warning look that told her lover, on no uncertain terms, to back off.  
  
The group moved onto the island with Scott taking the lead. Wolverine pulled in the rear, with Jean and Ororo taking flanking positions. It was with great surprise that Storm realized Logan was fitting into their formation without hesitance. He seemed to have the soul of a soldier, from the way he followed Scott without question.  
  
“There are no guards.” Jean murmured to Scott quietly. “Logan?”  
  
“They’re dead.” came the curt response. “I can smell the death, but its fresh. Got Sabertooth and that other bastard’s scents. They’re close.”  
  
“Toad,” Cyclops said with an edge to his tone. “Magneto? Mystique?”  
  
“Above.” Wolverine continued. “Best guess is to get to the top of the lady here.”  
  
Scott led them all to the entrance, motioning Ororo forward when they found the doors had been locked behind Magneto’s crew. Ororo pulled the lockpicks from her uniform, crouching in front of the door without a word. Inside of ten seconds, her tools clinked as the lock released. She stood, holding the door open for her friends.  
  
To his credit, Scott nudged her familiarly. “Thief.”   
  
At his deliberate tease, Storm smirked wickedly. “The best.”  
  
Logan’s brow was up in question as he reached out to hold the door for her. Though she hated the giddy, feminine thrill he gave her by holding the door, Storm swallowed hard. It was difficult to stay angry with him when he was looking at her like that. Damn him.  
  
Scott, Jean, and Ororo went through the metal detector without a problem. When dealing with Magneto, it was best to have no metals on their uniforms. Even the bulletproofing was done with thick clay plates instead of Kevlar. Charles did not want them to be toys for his old friend, after all.   
  
When Wolverine went through, though, the shrill alarms erupted. The trio of X-Men turned sharply, not surprised that the detector became nothing but a shred of metal in two flashes of adamantium. Of course, that meant the enemy likely knew they were here.  
  
Cyclops gave their Wolverine a steady look, to which Logan replied by pulling back the two outer claws, leaving the middle one as a rude, if relatively subtle gesture. Ororo bit back the chuckle, but Scott didn’t bother.  
  
They continued to move through the museum gift shop, alert. There were four powerful mutants here, they knew that. It wouldn’t do to be surprised, to be caught off guard, especially with the stakes so high. Magneto didn’t know that he could kill everyone in New York City in his quest to make mutants out of the world leaders on Ellis Island.  
  
“There’s someone here.”  
  
Logan’s words brought the three other mutants to a halt. They may not have known him well, but they could trust his mutation. Logan’s super-hearing and bloodhound-worthy sense of smell were likely to root out trouble before it found them.  
  
“Where?” Scott asked, one hand drifting up to to the dial that controlled the optical blasts he was code named for.   
  
“I don’t know,” Wolverine responded as he moved toward the opposite wall. “Keep your eye open.”  
  
Jean and Ororo shared a smirk at this, moving to flank Cyclops as he swore under his breath. Almost without acknowledging one another, they agreed to stay put. Logan had an uncanny ability for tracking, it wasn’t a hardship to wait for the all-clear.  
  
Storm rolled her shoulders. The level of tension had shifted. It was still incredibly awkward, though the reasoning was different. Now they were on the cusp of battle, the first time they would be tested in this new war Magneto wanted to wage. How could things have come this far already? Wasn’t it difficult enough to be a mutant in this world without mutants trying to outdo one another?  
  
As Logan began moving back toward them, Storm frowned. It looked like Logan, and as he spoke, it even sounded like him. Fine hairs on the back of her neck, however, protested that something wasn’t right.  
  
“Anything?” Scott asked, obviously seeing nothing amiss. Storm, however, took several steps back, reaching for Jean.  
  
“I know there’s someone here,” the doppelganger said in a rendition of Logan’s gruff voice. “I just can’t see ‘em.”  
  
Ororo glanced at Jean, her eyes widening when she saw another Logan running from the right. Before she could shout a warning to Scott, one Wolverine tackled another, the two of them rolling together into a small chamber just off the main corridor.   
  
Storm rushed forward with Cyclops and Jean at her side. Staring from one Logan to another as they began their fight, she couldn’t tell with any certainty which one was Logan.  
  
They broke apart, each turning to look at the assembled mutants. Scott had his hand on his visor, but hesitated as though he did not want to hit the real Logan by accident.  
  
“Wait!” Both Wolverines shouted a beat before the one standing in the doorway flashed metallic claws, breaking the weighted chain and slamming the door shut behind them.  
  
“Logan!” Ororo cried, rushing to the door, yanking on the handle. The thick steel would not budge, no matter how she pulled and tugged. “Logan!”  
  
“Alright.” Scott ordered. “Back up, back up!”  
  
Storm moved away quickly, trusting Cyclops to use his mutation to open that door. She needed to get to Logan, to pull him away from Mystique. The shapeshifter was one of the best they had ever seen at hand to hand combat. It did not matter that Logan was indestructible, Ororo  _had_  to get to him.  
  
Before Cyclops could blast the door open, however, he was kicked in the chest and sent flying through the museum. Glass tinkled as his heavy body landed in a display, but neither Storm nor Jean could get to him without going through the small, green mutant that had just landed in front of them.  
  
Toad, he was called, used the long, sticky tongue he was code named for to close another door, cutting Storm and Jean off from Scott. He turned, kicking both women so they fell back in opposite directions. Ororo was immediately dizzy, her head having come into sharp contact with the table that buckled under her weight.  
  
Before she could get to her feet, that sticky tongue wrapped around her wrist. One thrust threw her upwards, onto the second level, where she fell into yet another table. Storm had a wayward thought that she was hell on furniture when she lost consciousness.   
  
***  
  
He laid on the floor for a moment when the sinuous blue mutant crawled up into the rafters. On a good day, he would have had some kind of sarcastic remark to the woman who seemed to think walking up a pipe, backward, with her hands was intimidating.  
  
Right now, though, that mutant had just handed him his ass. He wasn’t really that interested in making some sort of witty remark. He needed to get the hell up and figure out what was happening with the rest of the group.  
  
Shaking his head, Logan could have sworn he heard thunder. Was that...wind? Glass breaking?  
  
“Storm.”  
  
Hauling himself to his feet, Logan winced as internal injuries started to heal themselves. No matter how slender Mystique looked, the woman packed one hell of a punch. She’d damn near punctured a lung at one point.  
  
Still aching, Logan moved along the maze of inner corridors, his hearing cluing in on where everyone was. He had lost Mystique, but he wasn’t fool enough to think she wouldn’t take another shot at him.   
  
Moving along the hallways, Logan caught the scent of ozone, the faint murmur of a voice he knew better than he wanted to admit. She was up and from the noise level drowning her words out, she was fighting.  _Good girl._  
  
Conflicted, remembering his words before they left the mansion, Logan paused as he reached the foot of Lady Liberty. He hadn’t wanted her to come here, to face battle and all the horrors it possessed. He could be proud, however, that his girl was upstairs beating the shit out of someone or something.  
  
A careful sniff told him someone was coming closer. It wasn’t the acrid scent of Cyclops or the feminine fragrance of his fiancee. Logan paused, confused by the scent. It smelled like Storm. It had the hint of sandalwood, the tang of burning ozone...but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t _clean_. Something about the scent put his back up.  
  
“Logan?” Her voice sent shivers down his spine. To his surprise, it wasn’t the tingle he associated with the woman that shared her bed with him. “Is that you?”  
  
“Shh.” He immediately silenced her, trying to hone in. If he flashed adamantium and he was wrong...he couldn’t consider the outcome. “The other one ain’t far.”  
  
She was moving closer, the tension in his back tightening until it was almost painful. It wasn’t her.  
  
 _Was it?_  
  
“Come on,” she continued as she stepped closer still. “We have to regroup.”  
  
The woman was close enough that he could feel her behind him. Logan took another whiff of her scent. He had to be right. He couldn’t make a mistake, not this time.  
  
“Yeah, but there’s a problem.”  
  
Turning, Logan released adamantium as fast as he could, grasping the woman’s shoulder as he slid the lethal metal into her midsection. For a moment, he was stunned, seeing Ororo at the end of his claws. Her scent, though, he had to rely on that. This wasn’t Storm.  
  
“No two women smell alike.” His rough growl preceded Mystique shifting. She became an amalgamation of him, of Storm, of her own natural form as she crashed to the floor. Logan shuddered, pleased that she’d retaken her form.  
  
Even the image of Storm dead at his hands was too much, no matter what he knew. Mystique lay still and quiet as the hum of silence echoed. Whatever had Storm in a tizzy upstairs was apparently, taken care of as the winds died down.  
  
Stepping over Mystique’s body, Logan found the door she had slammed shut earlier, hefting it open as fast as he could. He only hoped that the end of Ororo’s tempest came because she defeated her enemy, not because she was knocked out. Or worse.  
  
As the door slid open, Logan scented Cyclops and Jean. They came around the corner, with Cyke lifting his hand immediately to his visor, on guard.. Before the powerful mutant could blast him, Logan held his hands up in surrender.  
  
“Hey. Hey, its me.”  
  
Scott’s mouth was in a firm, untrusting line. “Prove it.”  
  
A hundred things ran through his head, but Logan never changed expression, landing on one phrase that was mostly to convince him of his identity.  
  
“You’re a dick.”  
  
Cyclops immediately dropped his hand. “Ok.”  
  
“Where’s Storm?” Logan glanced around them, realizing that she wasn’t with her cohorts.   
  
“Toad attacked us.” Jean offered quietly, her eyes gaining that faraway look he already associated with stretching her mind out.   
  
“If that slimy bastard touched one hair...”  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Logan’s rant was sharply cut off by her voice. As one, all three mutants looked up toward the walkway above them. Storm was leaning over the railing, looking disheveled, though unharmed. Logan felt the tension in his back ease, if only a little.   
  
Her gaze locked onto his, those dark eyes scanning him as though for injury. He offered her a small smile, an almost imperceptible shake of his head to let her know he was fine. Logan didn’t want to dwell on what all of this meant, especially now.  
  
“I found a way up. Come on.”  
  
With that, the white-haired mutant vanished from sight. Logan, Scott, and Jean took the stairs two at a time, meeting up with Storm at the upper level. She led them to the elevator bay, which bore recent scorch marks. Both Jean and Cyclops pulled up short, leaving Storm to depress the button to call the elevator.  
  
As one, her companions stared at her with something like fear and awe.  
  
“Did he...?” Jean asked as they pushed the button that would take up upwards.  
  
“Yes.” Storm’s expression was passive, though her tone said she was anything but placid.   
  
“And you were able to...?” Scott chimed in. Alright, this was getting confusing.  
  
“I handled it.”   
  
The elevator door opened and Ororo stepped inside. Scott shared a look with Jean that Logan couldn’t read. They followed her without hesitation, the contemporary muzak playing in the elevator grating on his nerves.  
  
“How can anyone listen to this crap?” Scott muttered, almost to himself.  
  
“I’d rather let Magneto yank the adamantium outta my bones.” Logan agreed, watching as the lights above the door switched, indicating they had arrived at their destination.   
  
They filed into the crown of Lady Liberty, glancing around to make sure no one was waiting for them. Logan could hear Marie crying, begging for someone to save her. Biting back a feral scream, Logan waited. He had to have a plan. He couldn’t go in there, claws blazing. Hell, he might hurt her. He didn’t know anything about the machine Magneto had built.  
  
When he moved to step closer, hoping to find a way onto the torch to save his young friend, Logan found he couldn’t move.  
  
“Everybody, get out of here.” Logan commanded, standing paralyzed by an unseen force.  
  
“Why?” He desperately wanted to look at Storm, to convey that she needed to stop asking questions and get the hell out.  
  
All he could do was continue looking up, every word an effort. “I can’t move.”  
  
The copper beams holding Lady Liberty’s head up were wrenched almost violently from the wall. Logan could feel them snap, feel his body be pulled away from where he stood. Cyclops pulled Storm out of the way just in time to avoid collision with his 300lbs body. With a grunt, Logan hit the side of the room, pinned there as someone would hang a jacket.  
  
One by one, the X-Men were also pinned. Storm took her place directly across from Logan, her eyes wide with fright. A metal band strapped her to the wall by the midsection and throat, the wince she expressed told Logan the cuts on her throat were probably being irritated by the thick copper beam.  
  
Moving wasn’t an option, but Wolverine didn’t stop trying. He found Jean and Scott pinned to the wall, facing one another with less than a foot between them. Cyclops struggling as feebly as Wolverine, fighting the urge to let loose when their bodies wouldn’t even respond.  
  
As the ceiling ripped away, Magneto lowered himself regally into the crown. Sabertooth was right behind him, following his master as a repeatedly kicked puppy might.  
  
“Ah, my brothers!” Magneto said almost jovially. The aged mutant turned to Logan, a small smirk covered his face. “ And you, let us point those claws of yours in a safer direction.”  
  
Unable to control his own body, Logan’s arms raised from their prone position against the wall. Magneto’s power flowed through him, leaving his veins chilled. He watched as the old man crossed his arms, placing lethal hands against his own chest. Should Logan unsheath his claws, he would do himself more injury than, perhaps, he could heal.  
  
Once that was done, Magneto seemed to forget he existed. Twisted metal trapped him against the wall, fists to chest, and the cool feeling of Magneto’s mutation fell away.  
  
“You better close your eyes.”   
  
Sabertooth moved forward, yanking Cyclops’ visor away. With a pang of something like empathy, Logan noted that the other man had his eyes squeezed shut. Should he open them, even for a moment, he would rip Jean in two. Of course, that was Magneto’s point. He knew Scott wouldn’t do anything that might harm the woman he loved.  
  
That wayward thought brought his eyes to Storm. There was stark fear in that gaze, even as she struggled mightily against the bonds that held her against the copper wall.  
  
“Storm,” Scott said harshly, “Fry him.”  
  
“Oh, yes.” Magneto chuckled. “A bolt of lightning into a huge copper conductor. I thought you lived at a school.”  
  
They could hear her, now, all of them. Rogue was trapped inside of a machine that was designed to kill her, screaming for help. Logan thought back to that moment on the train, when he promised he would take care of the girl that hid in his trailer outside of Laughlin City. He couldn’t let her down. He had to do something.  
  
Even if he could get free, with Magneto in front of him, he would be back at the madman’s mercy.  
  
“I saw Senator Kelly!”  
  
Jean’s voice stopped the older mutant from leaving the room. He turned to her, a look of utter amusement on his wrinkled face. Logan struggled to free his arms, wondering how badly it would hurt if he cut himself from the restraints. Could he heal in time to be any damn good?  
  
Was it worth trying? Hell yes.  
  
“Ah!” Magneto was saying. “So the Senator survived the fall and the swim to shore. He’s becoming more powerful than I imagined.”  
  
Jean’s voice was filled with hatred when she spoke again. “He’s dead. Just like all the people out there will be if you do this.”  
  
“It’s true.” Storm’s clear voiced backed up her friend as Logan listened to the pitying screams from the torch. He had to get free, he had promised he would look after her. Logan couldn’t let her die for the sake of this insanity.  
  
“I watched him die.” The white-haired woman continued, unabashed when the older man stepped closer to her. She met his eyes without flinching, though Logan could see her hands pulled tight into fists.  
  
If they let her out, she just might finish Magneto off while the rest of them had a beer.  
  
“Are you sure you saw what you saw?” Their captor remarked skeptically.   
  
“I watched him degenerate, into nothing but a pile of molecules.” Ororo was saying as Rogue screamed. “He broke down until there was nothing left. I was holding his hand when it happened. Erik, this isn’t the way.”  
  
With a huff, Magneto pushed away from the other woman.   
  
“Why do none of you understand what I am trying to do?” Magneto practically shouted, his tone filled with righteousness. “Those people down there control our fate, and the fate of every other mutant!”  
  
No one responded to his little speech, so Magneto turned away from them all.   
  
“Well, soon our fate will be theirs.”  
  
Above them, through the ringing silence, Rogue’s voice could be heard clear as a bell.  
  
“Help me! Please! Someone, help!”  
  
Logan snarled. “You’re so full of shit. If you were really so righteous, it’d be you in that thing. Not some innocent girl.”  
  
Instead of responding, Magneto lifted himself back through the hole he had created in the iconic statue. When he was gone, Logan returned to his struggling, noticing that the hulking, hairy mutant known as Sabertooth had lingered. As he turned his eyes back up, he could see the creature moving closer to Storm.  
  
Well, that just wasn’t going to work.  
  
Snarling with rage that was building up in his system, Logan wrenched his arm so hard, he thought he slipped the joint from the socket. Rogue was screaming somewhere above him, but the cries had changed. She wasn’t screaming for help, she cried out in pain. That bastard was using her to absorb his power.  
  
He had to do it. He had to.  
  
Preparing himself for the pain, the rage that would cover it, Logan screamed.  
  
 _Snikt_! Adamantium released from his hands, biting through flesh and metal until he fell limply onto the floor.  
  
“Logan!”  
  
Storm’s startled cry fell on deaf ears as Logan fought to stay awake while his body bled all over the crown of Lady Liberty.


	9. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-Men have to save the day, but it may come at too high a cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the penultimate chapter, guys. Got one more to wrap things up.
> 
> Anyone up for an X-Men United reboot?

Chapter 9: Sacrifice

 

“Logan.”

Storm whimpered his name as she strained against her bonds. Tears threatened to flow from her eyes as worry clutched at her heart. From what she’d been able to see, the injuries Logan had to endure to cut himself free had to be fatal.

Or they would be for someone not as talented as he.

For a moment, just a moment, Storm feared he was dead. Wolverine did not move, she could not see the rise and fall of his chest with breath. Ororo stared down at the man’s unmoving form and was unwittingly reminded of that morning.

Had it only been that morning? Could it have been so recently that she woke in Logan’s arms, his sated smile begging to be kissed? Storm tried to force the image away as pain crept into her heart. Would she never see that smile again?

Could they have come this far only to stumble at this final hurdle?

Storm clenched and released her hands, as though she needed to touch Logan. Her anger with him from the flight meant nothing. She didn’t care what he had said, she only wanted to see his eyes open…

Ignoring Sabertooth as he moved toward Logan, Storm struggled more forcefully against the metal strips that held her in place. She didn’t care if Sabertooth focused on her, not really. He didn’t frighten her nearly as much as the thought of losing Logan did.

As she grunted with effort, Ororo noticed Sabertooth moving toward her lover.

“No!” Storm demanded as Sabertooth growled at Logan’s unmoving form. “Leave him alone!”

On cue, Logan got to his knees in a flash of clean adamantium. His claws buried into the larger mutant’s soft belly, bringing an animalistic roar from his throat. Storm struggled still, wanting to be loose so she could help. Even if she was angry with him…

In a flash, however, the Brotherhood member grasped Logan’s smaller form, lifting him almost effortlessly into the air. Storm’s gaze caught Logan’s for the smallest of moments before he was thrown bodily through the hole Magneto had opened in the crown.

She could feel the vibrations of metal on metal as Logan rolled across the tip of the crown. Though the weather-manipulator was still unable to move, she could use her gifts to help Logan during this fight.

With a sting behind her eyes, Storm called on the wind. She surrounded the crown with a small buffer of air, in case Logan fell from the great height at which he was fighting. Metallic pinging and thudding told her of the fight above, even as Storm kept a tight lid on the elemental forces that wanted to run free.

“Storm.” It was Jean that finally broke the silence. “Open up. I can see him.”

Well, her friend was just damn brilliant.

Letting her mind open to Jean’s was dangerous for the telepath. Storm’s body conducted enough electricity to power Vegas for a week, which raced through her body with every beat of her heart. For Jean, it could mean being shocked when she stepped into Ororo’s consciousness. They had never attempted anything like this.

Storm didn’t care. Logan needed her help.

It was an out-of-body experience, watching jean watch Logan though Sabertooth’s eyes. Storm shifted the winds as needed, aiding her lover when it seemed he might fall. She cheered, inwardly, when he reclaimed the dog tags he thought forever lost. Ororo gasped when Logan nearly slid off of the crown, immediately moving the elements to grasp at him, cushion him.

He barely seemed to notice Storm’s interference, or he knew it was her and trusted that she wouldn’t let him fall.

“Come on, Logan.” Storm whispered to herself as her heart nearly stopped when Logan used his thick claws to keep from falling.

Ororo thrust a small burst of warm wind under his heavy body to stabilize him, breathing a sigh of relief when he landed softly on the edge of Liberty’s spike.

Rogue was screaming. Mechanical whirring stirred to life nearby, but Storm was focused completely on keeping Logan alive. Her heart rate stuttered as the claustrophobia that plagued her childhood roared to life. Having her arms pinned always did it, but Storm held on as long as she could.

As Wolverine and Sabertooth wrestled, however, she felt a slight panic overcome her. The connection with Jean broke, leaving Logan vulnerable. She heard him, distantly, clatter over the side of the crown, though she wasn’t sure where he had gone when Sabertooth jumped back into the small opening where she and her friends were being held.

“Logan.” Storm whispered, trying desperately to breathe. _Mama. No. Mama, I’m scared._

“Storm…” It was Scott, attempting to warn her. “Storm, breathe. You’re ok. We’re right here.”

“It’s us, Ororo.” Jean chimed in as gently as she could. “Breathe, honey. Breathe Storm.”

“Logan.” She whimpered again, searching for him as she struggled against her bonds. “Logan.”

It was Sabertooth, however, that approached. He filled her vision, all fearsome growling and unkempt hair. She wasn’t sure why this mutant was suddenly so obsessed with her, but there was nothing Storm could do to get away. She heard both Jean and Scott attempt to see what was happening. Neither of them could much.

Jean’s mind was occupied. Storm hoped it was because she needed to help Logan.

Sabertooth’s massive, clawed hand came up to Ororo. As she breathed through her claustrophobic panic, the other mutant trailed one dirty finger down her cheek. Storm simply stared at him, not processing the fear of him over the panic of being pinned, helpless.

“You owe me a scream.”

Storm found some of her spine as she replied.

“Never.”

Sabertooth wrapped his hand about her throat again, his fingers gripping as they had at the train station. Storm merely stared at him, wondering if Jean could protect herself and Scott if Storm actually did decide to use the copper conductor to her advantage.

She needn’t have worried, however. A moment later, there was a heavy thud from behind Sabertooth.

As the massive mutant turned, Storm realized that Logan had just jumped into the room. Her heartrate dropped so swiftly with relief that, had she been standing under her own steam, Storm was sure she might have fainted.

“Hey, bub.” Logan said in a tired tone. “I’m not finished with you, yet.”

Storm offered him a smirk as he said Jean’s name.

“Scott, when I tell you, open your eyes.”

Scott’s response was predictable. “No.”

Jean whispered. “Trust me.”

 “You drop something?” Logan asked the other feral mutant. In his hands sat Scott’s visor.

Storm closed her eyes to protect herself, wincing when a red-hot beam shot past her face. The copper chamber fell away as Scott’s power punched a hole through it, with Sabertooth acting as a buffer. Storm heard his scream fade as he fell.

A beat later, following a flash of adamantium, Storm’s arms were free.

She collapsed onto the floor, waving Logan off. He seemed unsure for a moment, then left her to recover. Jean was pulled from the wall next, and her friend was at her side in an instant. From Jean’s powerful mind, Storm was given a feeling of peace, of contentment that could drive away the fear.

Once Scott was released and his visor back on, Storm was able to stand on her own.

The four X-Men gathered at the hole in the ceiling, staring in a sort of muted horror at the device Magneto had created to turn humans into mutants. It was a stunning piece of work, not that it was surprising. Magneto always had a way with metal.

Inside of the spinning rings, however, there was a fourteen year old girl in desperate need of help.

“We have to get her out of there.” Logan insisted, looking at Scott. “Cyclops, can you hit it?”

Scott stepped up immediately, his hand going to the dial on his visor. Storm stared up at the little girl inside of the machine, remembering extending her hand to Marie on that cold, Canadian day.

“The rings are moving too fast.” Scott insisted.

“Just shoot it!” Wolverine roared.

“I’ll kill her!” Cyclops returned.

What were they going to do?

White light emitted from the device, stretching like the early fingers of dawn over the water. Once that light reached the opposite island, the humans there were doomed to die.

They had to do something.

“Storm?” Scott’s call of her name brought Ororo back to earth. “Can you fly me up there?”

“I can’t control it like that.” Storm insisted, hating herself for saying it. “I can’t just aim it.”

“You can make thunderstorms in your hand.”

At Logan’s words, Storm nodded. “But lifting a 200lbs man without throwing him over the torch is almost impossible.”

Wolverine nodded. “Then let me go. At least, if I miss, you can still blast the damn thing.”

Scott shot a look at Storm. Ororo knew, at least, if she dropped Logan he had a chance to survive. There would be no saving Scott. And, if they couldn’t save Rogue from the device, at least they could stop millions of people from following Senator Kelly’s gruesome death.

It was a decision no one wanted to make. The idea of sacrificing an innocent girl to a madman’s plot was abhorrent.

What choice was there?

“Jean, help me keep him steady.” Storm said with a sigh.

Her friend nodded once, bracing herself for the feat of holding a grown man steady amid gale-force wind.

Before she could call on her gift, however, Storm felt a strong arm around her waist. Logan hauled her to his chest, capturing her mouth for a quick, fierce kiss. Storm gave herself over to it, kissing Logan back as ardently as she could. Her gloved hands gripped at his uniform, holding him tightly. This wasn’t a goodbye and Ororo knew it. This was an offer of what was waiting when he finished the mission. Somehow, Ororo knew Logan got the message.

He smiled against her mouth as he released her.

Storm kept her gaze on his, nodding slowly. They could do this.

When Logan glanced at Scott, he smirked. “Needed the luck.”

The weather goddess rolled her eyes. “Hold on to something.”

~**~

Watching the girls work would never get old.

Scott admired the awe-inspiring gifts honed by his fiancée and best friend as they lifted the 350lbs mutant into the air. Sweat beaded on both brows, controlling the wind, keeping the man from flying over the edge to land in the water below.

If they didn’t do this, if they failed in this one area, then they would be responsible for allowing Magneto to kill so many people. They couldn’t fail, not now.

Scott held his breath as Logan was lifted into the air. He wondered how the other man could even breathe while he was trapped by the hurricane-force winds keeping him aloft. Storm took a step back, bracing as her frost-tinged eyes concentrated on Logan’s flailing body.

Jean was just as intense, with one hand thrust before her in a clawed fashion. She used her hands to concentrate her mutant ability. Jean was holding Logan in the wind, keeping him from being thrust out of the wind tunnel by one errant current.

It was something wonderful to behold.

Scott released the breath he wasn’t aware of holding as Logan landed on the top of Magneto’s machine. Almost as one, Jean and Storm broke connection.

Storm collapsed onto her knees while Jean braced one hand on the copper wall.

None of them took their eyes from the three mutants on the torch.

Magneto had moved into play, stopping Logan as he jumped into the machine. Scott couldn’t see with any sure accuracy through the ruby-tinge of his visor, but it seemed as though Magneto had used Logan’s metal skeleton against him. He couldn’t move, even as Rogue screamed. As weakened as their old friend might be, it wasn’t hard for Erik to use his power when there was so much metal inside of Logan.

Cyclops knew he had to do something, as the white-hot cloud of radiation stretched toward the island of Manhattan.

He raised one hand to the dial of his visor, taking a deep breath. He would ask forgiveness every day of his life if this ended wrong.

Scott prayed it wouldn’t end wrong.

“Scott, wait!” Jean demanded.

He exhaled sharply. Should he wait or take the shot? What did he shoot? The rings that moved too swiftly? The man he had once counted as a father figure? The base of the torch, bid goodbye to girl, friend, and foe?

_Charles. What is the right choice?_

The cloud grew more dense, moving so swiftly across the water that Scott knew he had only seconds before the damage was done.

_I can’t fail._

“Jean, I have to!” Scott shouted over the din of rising voices and metallic whirring.

“Just wait!” Jean screamed back.

Scott only wished he had her faith.

He dialed down the beam to almost a precision laser, hoping against hope that his aim would be true. How could he make this decision? Was it even his decision to make?

There was no way he could look at Ororo as he made his choice. She was on her knees, panting from the loss of energy she had just exerted. If something happened to Logan, he might hate himself forever. They had to think about the greater good, though. Ororo would understand. Someday.

Scott ignored his fiancée’s entreating hand, begging him for a moment more. They didn’t have another moment. Their job was to be X-Men, to protect humanity and mutants from one another.

This was his job. This was Cyclops’ decision. He didn’t want anyone else

“I have a shot.” Scott said with certain finality. “I’m taking it.”

Without another warning, Cyclops released the optic beam.

With almost surgical precision, the beam hit Magneto in the right shoulder, startling him so that he was forced to release Wolverine. Almost instantly, the feral mutant stretched out his claws to stop the spinning rings. Jean raised both hands. Wind erupted all around them.

As Magneto’s device shattered, Storm and Jean did their best to contain the flying bits of metal and plastic. Both women released strained grunts as they kept the damage from flying to the water or taking out the Coast Guard boats that were already inbound.

Metal fell to the island below as Ororo collapsed. Scott caught Jean as her exhausted body also tried to give out. She held on to him tightly, even a Scott tried to locate the other two mutants in his group. He couldn’t see Logan or Rogue, not with the light suddenly so dim.

“Logan?” Scott called out. “Marie?”

“Go.” Jean insisted as Scott settled her against the copper wall. “I’ll be alright in a minute.”

“You sure?” Scott asked, glancing back to the decimated torch. “We need to move. Soon.”

It was then that they heard a distinctly young voice crying out. Scott turned sharply, searching through his ruby-red gaze to locate the girl he’d last seen locked in a malicious machine at the behest of a madman.

“Logan!” Marie was crying. “Logan, wake up! Wake up!”

“No.” Ororo’s voice trembled as she scrambled to her feet. Scott made a desperate grab to stop her, but only scarcely missed getting a handful of her cape as she rushed by on unsteady feet.

“Storm! Wait!” Cyclops called out, turning back to Jean as she stumbled. “Damn it.”

“Go.” His future wife ordered. “Before she hurts herself.”

His boots slid on the blood-slicked metal beneath his feet as Cyclops turned to chase his friend. It was a short distance when traversed by stairs. From the crown of Lady Liberty to the torch, Scott chased the wintry mutant that was his friend.

Weak as she appeared, there was  no stopping the diminutive African woman when she was on a mission.

They were careful to step over the metal fragments that littered the base of the torch’s ‘flame’, and Storm didn’t even bother to slow as she stepped around Erik’s prone body. Scott did stop, checking to be sure he hadn’t killed the older man.

Erik lay on his back, stunned from the precision laser strike as Scott had hoped. He wasn’t gravely injured, but he wouldn’t be moving any time soon. The US Military could take care of him from this point on. That was a score for the good guys, Cyclops thought.

One bad guy in the bag.

~**~

Storm tore her cape away in one motion, allowing it to flutter away over the water as she found a good spot to climb. She didn’t care what happened with Magneto, her only goal was to be sure Logan hadn’t been hurt too badly.

Finding hand and foot holds the way Scott taught her one summer at Red Rock, Storm lifted her body onto the top of the torch. Her hands were laced with cuts as she hauled herself over the edge, cuts she would deal with later.

Rogue stood still inside the machine, staring down at Logan too terrified to touch him. A cursory glance told Ororo that her young charge was relatively unharmed, which was odd considering what she had just been through.

The only oddity Storm could immediately see was a strange white stripe in the front of her hair.

“He won’t wake up.” Rogue stammered as Storm got to her feet unsteadily. “I think he used my power.”

Fear, stark and unyielding, flooded Ororo’s heart. She turned, rushing the two steps around the perimeter of the machine to where Logan lay on the floor. He was still and quiet, his chest barely moving with breath.

“Logan.” Ororo choked on his name, falling to her knees and catching her hair with one hand so she could press an ear to his chest. She could hear nothing. “Logan. Wake up.”

Her voice was strained, weak, and filled with fear. Ororo sat back up, staring at her lover as she catalogued the wounds too numerous to recall. There were scrapes and bruises on his handsome face, and his uniform was ripped to shreds.

Six deep punctures in his chest, however, brought the harsh realization roaring to life. If he had given Rogue his ability to heal, anything that hadn't been able to fully heal in the last few minutes would tear back open. Though he could have healed the wounds made by his own adamantium with his healing factor in full swing, was it possible to do so when he had given that gift to someone else?

Had the Wolverine just sacrificed his own life for that of his young ward?

That thought brought clouds crashing together in the sky. Ororo didn't know what was happening between them...that didn't mean losing him wouldn't devastate her on a primal level. He couldn't die. He simply wasn't allowed to.

“Logan. No.” Ororo begged, reaching out to touch his face. “Logan?”

He stirred, just barely. Ororo leaned closer as a rumble in his chest betrayed that he wanted to speak. Her lover did not move, but Storm distinctly heard him whisper her name and Marie’s.

As the Blackbird roared above them, Storm smiled. Jean was lowering the ramp so they could board directly from the torch.

“It’s ok, Logan.” Storm kissed his cheek again. “We’re going home.”


	10. Never Gonna Be Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Liberty Island changes everything, one last time.
> 
> (Smut warning!)

**Chapter Ten: Never Gonna Be Alone**

_Time is going by so much faster than I_

_And I’m starting to regret not spendin’ all of it with you_

_Now I’m wondering why I’ve kept this bottled inside_

_I’m starin’ to regret not sharin’ all of this with you_

_So, if I haven’t yet I gotta let you know_

_You’re never gonna be alone_

_-Nickelback_

As she opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the familiarity of her surroundings. The oak bookshelves stretching from ceiling to floor, old leather furniture that smelled of good polish. Somehow, though she knew he would never smoke, there was always the faint odor of a freshly lit cigar in the room.

It was his study, the place she always felt the most welcome.

Jean stepped into the room cautiously, still unsure how to handle being inside of his personal space without him. Not the room, of course, in reality the study was open for anyone at any time for almost any reason.

Scott liked to think in one of the posh antique chairs, it helped him arrange his thoughts when something was troubling him.

Ororo preferred the high window seat, curled up to stare into the sky with that wistful look on her dark face.

For Jean, her favorite place was the little sofa that sat along one bookshelf, where all the leather-spined beauties were within arm’s reach. This study was so much more than classroom and haven, it was where four mutants became a family.

No wonder he had retreated here.

It took what felt like days to traverse the expansive mind of her mentor. She’d never done anything like this, not without his thoughtful guidance. Charles always had a hand on her shoulder, ready to pull her out of the fire before she got too badly burnt. This time, however, it was he himself that so desperately needed help.

Jean could not turn her back on him now.

“Charles?”

She said his name softly, hating how the Astral Plane made the tone of her voice seem to have an echo attached. This wasn’t reality, no matter how much it was dressed to resemble it. Jean had to be careful to remember that she and Charles were trapped in his mind. Getting too comfortable in the faux-reality could cause them to lose themselves completely. Jean kept rubbing the base of her left ring finger, where her engagement ring should have rested.

Scott suggested she remove it, a reminder that this was not reality. He sat in the chair beside her, in the world outside of Charles Xavier’s brilliant mind, holding the ring she loved in his hands for safekeeping.

Focusing on the image of her mentor, Jean found him at his favorite spot in the study. His wheelchair was pushed to the window that overlooked the grounds of the Institute, those familiar hands clasped just under his chin as he contemplated the mysteries of life.

Or, perhaps, he was merely thinking about how Tom Brady’s game would improve this year…either was a good guess.

“Charles.”

She reached out, gently touching his shoulder. Charles seemed to startle, turning to look at the woman that became his surrogate daughter over the years. Those clear blue eyes were clouded, the corneas a murky sort of color that reminded her of the device that corrupted Cerebro.

Jean crouched in front of her mentor, placing her hands on either side of his face. Her thumbs pressed ever so gently into his temples, her own eyes closing as she fought her way into the deepest recesses of his powerful mind.

The telekinetic managed to clear the murky substance from Charles’ eyes, her smile already spreading over her mouth as she managed to open her own eyes.

“Hello.”

Charles’ answering grin was worth every moment of pain she spent trying to break the locks on his psyche.

“Hello, Charles.” Jean whispered her response with tears in her voice.

“Come to take me home?” Charles asked, his Astral voice a deep echo of how he spoke in life.

“Yes.” Jean grinned, releasing a watery chuckle. “You’re coming home with me, Charles.”

 

~**~

When he woke up, Jean was smiling down at him. She moved a bandage from his torso…when was the last time he needed bandages? It tickled a little until he made her stop.

She was looking at him with fear and relief in those deep green eyes. Logan pondered for a moment, wondering why she seemed so upset…

It came flooding back in a hurry. Marie. Magneto. White-hot light. Begging the girl to wake up, trying to use her power to save her.

The insistent wail of a medical monitor brought Logan fully into the real world. Jean was trying to soothe him, using clucks of her tongue and a soft, gentle tone. Logan looked around himself, trying to find Marie. Was she ok?

“Did it work?” Logan demanded, his dry throat aching. “The kid? Is she ok? Where is she?”

“Logan, calm down.” Jean tried placating him again. “You’ve been out for almost a week.”

“A week?” Logan’s voice rose. “Where is she?”

“She’s fine.” Jean said at last. “She’s more worried about you. Well, she took on some of your finer qualities for a few days, but we survived. That was a very brave thing you did, Logan.”

At this, Logan laughed. It worked. Thank God. Little Marie had been so limp in his arms, so tiny. He wanted nothing more than to save her, to prove to himself he was more than just a cage fighter looking for a prize. Wasn’t he worth more?

“Good.” Logan replied, relaxing against the medical bed once more. He glanced about, not very surprised to find that Ororo wasn’t nearby. If there was one thing he liked about that woman, it was her dedication to the right thing.

They still had kids to mind, a school to run.

“I think she’s a little taken with you.” Jean went on, making Logan flush a little.

“Yeah.” Logan agreed softly. He took Jean’s hand, grateful for the contact after so close a march with death. When he thought about it, though, Logan knew he was in too deep with the weather witch to bother trying to dig himself out.

“I’ve gotta tell her my heart belongs to someone else.”

“Logan,” Jean said quietly. She took a seat on the edge of his bed, her green eyes boring into his. What did she see there, Logan wondered. Was it a feral beast, a broken man, or something else entirely?

“She’s crazy about you.” Jean replied in her soft voice. “I don’t get to see her crazy very often. She lov-“

Logan couldn’t hear that, not from Jean. If Storm felt something from him, it would be from her lips Logan would hear it. He cut Jean off, thinking of their fearless leader.

“How’s the professor?”

Jean seemed to catch on that Logan would say no more on the subject. Her eyes were a little sad, but she smiled slightly anyway. Strong woman, Jean Grey. No wonder Scooter liked her.

“He’s good.” Jean said quietly.

“Good.” Logan kissed her hand before he turned away, suddenly wanting to see Ororo so bad, it hurt.

A beat later, though, the med-lab door opened and Logan had his hands full with a sobbing teenage girl.

 

~**~

Getting back into the routine wasn’t as easy as she would have liked, especially when Logan awoke.

It was almost a week since the battle on Liberty Island, and Ororo had classes to teach, disputes to mediate, and children to mind. It was a never-ending job, one that she vastly preferred to flushing out errant mutants.

When Jean told her that Logan was awake, however, it took everything in her body to continue teaching. She’d only left his side to teach, to look after the little ones. When she wasn’t there, it was Jean or Marie on watch, keeping an eye on the man that somehow wormed his gruff ways into their hearts.

But it was Ororo who ushered Marie from their class when she got the message, sending the teen toward the lower levels with a note to excuse her should any of the other teachers stop her in the hall.

Marie needed to see the man that saved her life, the one person who had come through for her when so many others had failed. Logan had an admirer in young Marie, one that would never let him down.

Deciding she would check on him now that her duties were clear, Storm almost ran for her bedroom to change. Peter was in charge of the little ones this evening; he and Bobby had planned some sort of film marathon for the weekend kickoff. Knowing that would keep them all busy, Ororo quietly instructed Kitty and Jubilee to make a few snacks for the group before insisting that they all behave themselves. Once that was taken care of, Storm headed for her bedroom.

Logan had almost died, and there was no stretching that truth. Jean lost his heartbeat twice on the way back to the mansion. Scott had been forced to shock his metallic body twice, in hopes of restarting his heart. Rogue had cried the entire way while Storm was forced to pilot the Blackbird, listening as Marie begged Logan to wake up.

She’d always done the responsible thing, the right thing. Ororo had a wild side that she kept buttoned up most of the time. While Jean might have forgone any responsibilities to wait at Scott’s bedside had he been injured, that wasn’t Storm’s style. The weight of keeping everything running smoothly sat on her shoulders, even if the others never realized it.

All she wanted was to be with Logan when he woke. How had she resisted this long?

As she keyed into her room, using a hip to pop the door open, Ororo was paying no attention to anything around her. She wanted to change into something comfortable and go to him. She’d kissed him before he flew over the torch, that kiss filled with promises she knew she wanted to keep.

Ororo had already pulled her shirt over her head when she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Don’t let me stop you, darlin’.”

Logan’s easy drawl made Ororo jump. She spun on her heels, finding the handsome mutant moving from her bed toward her. Ororo smiled, giddy as a schoolgirl, when she understood he’d been waiting for her.

He looked as though nothing had happened. His flesh was knitted together, obvious from the absence of a shirt over his chest. His hair was a disheveled tease of wolfish peaks, the sweats he’d probably stolen from the lower levels riding low on his hips.

And that smile…Logan looked at her as though she were the sun coming up.

Without another word, Logan reached for her, his hands insistent. Ororo went all too willingly into her lover’s arms, allowing his mouth to capture hers. She had the resistance of a rag doll, giving herself over wholly to a man who frequently made her knees weak.

How was this possible after less than a month?

Logan’s mouth was hot against hers, his hands on her hips possessive. Ororo felt her entire body catch light under the skin, the primal nature of his desire bringing to life that wild side of herself she frequently tucked into a suit.

There was no time for words as Logan backed her toward the bureau, lifting her as though she weighed nothing, as though he hadn’t been on death’s doorstep only days ago. She whimpered into his mouth when he caught her bottom lip with his teeth.

“Logan…” She whispered his name, a plea, a demand.

“You don’t like this…”Logan spoke against her throat, where his mouth mapped a wet trail from her earlobe to shoulder. “This suit thing, right?”

Her own brain was muzzy with the heat flushing through her. Ororo could only shake her head as she nibbled at the scruff of Logan’s beard. The temperature in the room jumped up several notches, a testament to the edge of control Ororo currently teetered over.

“Shred it.” Ororo whispered, her hand teasing at the waist of his sweats. “Right now, Logan.”

_Snikt!_

In two deft flashes of lethal adamantium, Ororo found herself completely bare before her lover. The shiver of cool metal against heated flesh served to only increase her ardor. He settled her on the dresser behind them, groaning when her hands shoved down the material of his boxers and sweats so he was naked for her.

“Now.” Logan panted, stepping between her parted thighs. “Right now, ‘Ro.”

“Now,” Ororo nodded, her hands gripping his hips to guide him closer.

With one sharp snap of his hips, Logan buried himself inside of her.

Ororo threw her head back as they joined, her body clenching around Logan as he drove into her. The pace he set was immediately rough, pounding her with such force into the bureau that it rocked precariously against the wall.

Logan buried his face in the juncture between her shoulder and throat, holding her hips so he could drive into her, grunting endearments with every hard thrust of his hips. They were wild for one another, with flashes of what might have been behind their eyes.

So close, so very close to losing one another forever.

“Logan.” She gasped his name, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, one burying into his sweat-slicked hair. “Logan, harder.”

Logan lifted his head from her shoulder, pressing his forehead against hers so their eyes could meet in the dim light of her bedroom. Sweat dripped from his skin, a response to his passion, to the heat of Storm’s mutation. In this one moment, Ororo knew nothing would ever be the same.

“I love you.”

He said the words with no explanation, no inhibition, and no expectation. Ororo clung to him more fiercely as he took her mouth with his, that honeyed phrase still clinging to his lips.

“I love you.” Ororo whispered in return, knowing the truth of it the second he said it. “Logan, I love you.”

As though her response to his declaration fueled his passions further, Logan growled as he thrust more forcefully into her body. Ororo’s unprepared system was already trembling, squeezing him to bring him with her over the edge. It took two more thrusts of Logan’s hips to tumble her toward bliss, his name leaving her mouth on a low, keening wail.

Logan followed with one grunt of her name, his body jerking hard as he spilled into her. They clung to one another in the darkness, huddled on her dresser as the lovers came down from the orgasmic high.

He nuzzled her nose with his, a surprisingly tender gesture as Ororo tried to catch her breath.

“Yeah,” Logan’s voice broke the silence as they held one another. “Remember who said it first.”

 

~**~

He’d said goodbye and that was a big deal for him. Logan adjusted the bag over his shoulder, glancing to the stairwell as he stepped away from Marie. The kid had come chasing after him, knowing he wasn’t just heading down the street for a six-pack and some milk.

_You runnin’ again?_

Not this time, Logan thought. There was something here, something inside this hallowed walls that Logan knew had nothing to do with the white-haired woman he couldn’t get enough of.

What Xavier had built, what he was doing, it was something Logan could believe in. He might still need answers about his past, about the people that had done such horrifying things to him, but now he had a base.

It wasn’t a home, not his home, not yet.

Ororo knew he was leaving today. Sessions with the revitalized Charles had done wonders for him. They had a lead now, an abandoned base in the Canadian wilderness. Flashes of memory that became nightmare had to be investigated.

She understood. God help him, that woman got it, got _him._ What the hell was he going to do with her?

How the hell could he walk away from her?

That thought followed him as he closed the door. He promised Rogue he’d be back for the dog tags that were the only tangible link to his past. He would be back.

For Marie, because Marie needed him. For Charles, in case he needed some muscle to fulfill his dream. For Scooter and Jeanie, since they had to have someone to keep them on their toes.

For the kids, someone had to protect the kids.

For Ororo, because he loved her.

As he reached the garage, Logan moved toward the Jeep that Charles intended to loan him. As he reached it, though, something caught his eye. Propped by the doorway leading to the kitchen was Scott’s motorcycle, freshly polished and gorgeous, just waiting for a rider. Logan noticed something taped to the seat and approached out of pure curiosity.

Across the top of a folded piece of paper was his name in a masculine scrawl. Logan shouldered his bag more comfortably, taking the note from the seat, opening it quickly. A set of keys tumbled into his hand, forcing Logan to read the short note for explanation.

_Logan-_

_Just did a tune up. Full tank of gas. Good luck._

_-Scott_

Touched, though he would never admit it, Logan gently folded the note. He didn’t have much that was his, certainly never something so simple as a ‘good luck’. He and Scooter had their differences, but this was an olive branch he couldn’t ignore. Logan zipped the note into his bag, knowing that he would treasure it as much as he had the dog tags.

He stuffed his pack into the saddlebag, then swung his leg over the seat. The engine roared to life, echoing in the cavernous garage, singing in Logan’s veins. Yeah, he’d come back. Maybe this would be home.

Still, there was no sign of Ororo. Maybe she’d been telling the truth as she lay in his arms this morning. Maybe she just didn’t do well with goodbye.

His heart heavy, Logan balanced the bike and pulled up the kickstand with one booted heel. He wanted to go inside, to find her, to kiss her until she went boneless one more time. He needed her to remember him, to wait…would she wait?

No, it was better if this morning was their goodbye. Relaxed from love making, soft with sleep, bright with hope…that was how it was meant to be.

Logan steeled himself as he walked the bike toward the edge of the garage. He knew Marie was watching from the windows. Ororo probably stood in the atrium, refusing to watch him go. Damn it. He was leaving her. Why? Why was he leaving her?

A beat before he hit the clutch and gunned the engine, the kitchen door slammed. Logan moved to turn, startled to find that a gorgeous woman had just jumped onto the back of his bike.

By the time Logan found the wits to smile, she was belting on a helmet.

“What in the flamin’ hell are you doin’, woman?”

“Running away from home.” Ororo replied impishly, stuffing her tiny pack into the saddle bag. She got comfortable on the back of the bike, grabbed at his waist.

She looked nothing like the prim, proper schoolteacher he had come to know. Ororo had on faded, ripped jeans, a pair of biker boots he hadn’t guessed she would own and a leather bomber to protect her skin. The helmet was white, ringed with blue feathers. Custom made.

This wasn’t her first time. There was still so much he didn’t know about her. Logan was suddenly thrilled to learn more.

She wanted to run away with him.

“You sure?” Logan asked as his heart pounded in his chest.

“You bet.” Ororo grinned, flicking down the visor of her helmet. “Let’s go, tough guy.”

Turning back toward the handlebars, Logan chuckled. She’d never cease to amaze him. He hit the clutch, revved the engine.

“You got it, darlin’.”

He released the brake, shooting the bike up into a wheelie. Storm squealed with unabashed delight, her grip on his waist tightening before he dropped them back on both wheels. Scooter’s bike shot out of the garage like a bat out of hell, taking the winding turns toward the highway so fast Logan’s knees almost scraped asphalt.

She turned toward the mansion a beat before it was out of sight, rising up to stand as she lifted a hand. She was saying goodbye.

Logan hit the gas again when they reached the highway. Wherever he was going, whatever he would find, he wouldn’t be alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride! I started this fic forever ago and I'm so glad to have finished. I tried to stay true to the film, while adding a little something more for us RoLo lovers.
> 
> The final chapter did NOT go where I expected, but it does give me an awesome segue into the second fic in this series X-Men: Unleashed, which will be a new take on X-Men: United. I hope you'll find time to read the newest.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the praise and encouragement. I couldn't have done it without you!


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